


I Am As Constant As A Northern Star

by pansexual_intellectual



Category: The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, The Wicked Powers Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Badass Dru, F/M, Kit has a tattoo, Kit's faerie magic, Livvy's a frigging wingwoman, M/M, Reunion Fic, Slow Burn, anush is in there somewhere, bisexual kit, but only if you find pain and heartbreak and lovesickness funny, kit is so in love it's not even funny, okay it's a little bit funny, poor kit, read it i'm needy, who am i kidding of course you do.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:34:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23536873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pansexual_intellectual/pseuds/pansexual_intellectual
Summary: Kit, after a blissful period of respite living in Devon, is relocated to the LA Institute, along with Dru, Ty, and other Scholomance kids.  Drama and emotional/sexual tension ensues.  Demons are slaughtered.  (Title's from a Joni Mitchell song, btw)
Relationships: Drusilla Blackthorn/Ash Morgenstern, Tiberius Blackthorn/Kit Rook
Comments: 90
Kudos: 170





	1. The Past Is The Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter used to be called "No Love Lost", but I changed it to "The Past Is The Past'', which I feel fits it much better. "No Love Lost" will be another chapter, later on. Hope that's not confusing, enjoy!

“Ready or not, here I come….” Kit Herondale swung his hands from his face, looking around the library with exaggerated interest. 

He spotted her, squished in one corner of the bookshelf, but pretended not to. 

“Oh, Mina…..” Kit sang, making a show of scouring the every inch of the room- besides the bookshelf, of course. He continued this way for a few more minutes, prolonging the suspense, until he was sure she couldn’t take it any more, and let his gaze idle, eventually resting on the bookshelf.

Kit pretended to jump back in shock, saying with a grin, “Found you.”  
He reached out, intending to swing her on his back, but she vanished like smoke under his fingers. Oh. She’d gotten better at casting illusions recently; it was, of course, the warlock blood in her.  
Kit turned around, eyeing the ceiling, the floor, the walls, accusingly.  
“Alright, Mina, where are you, you little monster?” 

A giggle sounded, and Kit, glaring (mostly) for show in her general direction, took to the ladder bracketing one bookshelf, fingers gripping the rungs with practiced ease. He’d gotten better at it, Shadowhunting; whilst at Devon, he’d practiced and practiced, as if he could beat the memory of Ty- Kit stifled thoughts of him. It was only 10 o’clock in the morning, for God’s sake. Besides, he hadn’t had a proper breakfast yet, and he couldn’t deal with thinking about Ty on an empty stomach. 

Kit cleared the top of the bookshelves and swung his gaze around. Sitting semi-invisibly (she’d cast some sort of light glamour, he gave her points for forethought) atop one of the bookshelves was Mina, giggling. 

“How the hell did you get up there?” Kit grumbled, half-exasperated, half-awed.  
Mina was growing faster each day, her powers- while not at the terrifying, unknown extent that Kit’s were - growing as well. 

“It’s not safe up there, you little rascal.” Kit called to her, vaulting from the ladder to land, catlike, on the top of the shelf adjacent to hers. Mina squealed, making for the next bookshelf over. Fear spiked in Kit- what if she fell?

“I give up, I give up,” Kit said, leaping agilely to her shelf, “You win. Again.”  
Kit scooped Mina up, and she squealed as he hoisted her, piggy-back style. 

“That was some illusion, kid.” Kit told her. “I had no idea until it evaporated.”

“Mummy’s been teaching me.” Mina informed him, proudly. “She says you should come learn, too.”  
Kit snorted. “I’m not like you, Min-Min. I don’t have your super special warlock powers.”

It was a lie- a partial one, at least. He wasn’t a warlock, but what he was… he’d asked Tessa and Jim not to tell Mina, at least not until she was old enough to fully comprehend it. The first year, he’d gone through a few weeks of fruitless lessons with Tessa- she was endlessly patient, but nothing they did had any effect, or brought his powers to the surface, and they’d stopped, partly because the lessons always dissolved into conversations about movies and books. Tessa didn’t know- or at least, if she did, she hadn’t questioned him - that he’d been experimenting. That he could bring them to the surface, control them in rudimentary ways now.

Kit gazed down at the distance, and then turned, arching his neck back to look at Mina. “Wanna do something scary?” Kit challenged.

Mina nodded vigorously. “Hold on tight.” Kit tensed, drawing his powers to him, curling them around his hands like ropes of lace. Brow furrowing, Kit wove a net, a nest, around Mina, cushioning her. He felt the magic, felt it fizzing in his chest; a cascade of golden champagne bubbles. When he was sure Mina was safe, he inhaled. 

“Ready?” Kit asked, and when Mina squealed an excited “Yeah!” Kit jumped. They fell slowly, as if the air was slow, thick, honey. Kit concentrated, using his powers to propel them upwards, then sideways, zooming back and forth. Mina was giggling, unclasping her hands from Kit’s neck to clap. It gave Kit an idea.

“When I say ‘go’, let go, Min-Min.” The nest he’d woven for her out of magic would support her on her own. “Go!” Mina, giggling, let go, and Kit focused and the magic wrapping around her. Painstakingly, he zoomed her around the extensive library, and then, inspiration striking, he gave her wings, swoops of magic that would respond to her wishes. Kit watched as Mina, giggling, flew herself around the library.

Slowly, Kit landed on the ground, letting Mina have her fun. When she’d been flying for a good ten minutes, Kit called her back.  
“Min-Min, you should come down now.” Mina frowned, turning to him, and then the library doors banged open, Jem striding in. Hastily, Kit zoomed Mina down to the ground, making sure she landed gently on the carpet-cushioned floor next to him.

Jem raised his brows at this, and Kit flushed sheepishly, but Jem didn’t comment further. 

“Kit, Tessa and I have something we’d like to talk to you about. Mina, do you want to play with kitty-cat?”  
Jem produced Church from behind his arms, and eagerly, Mina ran forward, snatching him from Jem’s arms. Church gave a yowl of protest, but surrendered. Mina and Jem were the only ones he liked.

Jem gestured for Kit to follow him, and Kit did, hurrying to match Jem’s brisk pace. “Is it about my magic? I didn’t m-”  
“It’s not about that, although I see you’ve been practicing.” Jem’s tone was even.

Kit grimaced guiltily. “Then what? If you want to talk to me about TP’ing Mr. Brookner’s house, he deserved it, and besides, it was April Fool’s.”

Jem turned, looking amused. “Not that either, but that would be a suitable conversation topic for now.”

Kit backtracked furiously. “The past is the past,” Kit began, but Jem paused, so abruptly that Kit stumbled.   
“For these past years, maybe, but no longer, I fear.”

“Um. What?”

Jem closed his eyes. When he opened them they were full of sympathy, care. 

“Kit, you are needed at the LA Institute. The Consul contacted me. For what, I do not know.”  
Dazed, Kit swayed. “Alec contacted you? About- about me? I have to go to the LA Institute? Will… will T- will the Blackthorns be there?”  
Jem nodded. “I am sorry, Kit. I know that while staying with the Blackthorns, you suffered pain that you don’t speak of, even now.” His tone was gentle. 

“We’ve tried to keep you safe here, but now the time has come for you to go. You are a Shadowhunter. Face your old wounds, face your memories and your pain, and you will be whole.”


	2. His Dreams And Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of sad, but it's how I honestly expect Ty to react, seeing Kit for the first time in three years.

Going to the LA Institute. Going to the LA Institute. The Blackthorns…. Kit’s heart thumped an irregular beat. They’d called Magnus to make a Portal, and Kit gazed into its swirling blue depths. Chaos, Magnus’s blue fire… and then, a glimpse of the LA Institute. Kit knew it well; it had figure prominently in his dreams and nightmares for years now. “Ready?” Magnus asked. Kit turned to him, bag slung over his shoulder.

“I… I don’t know.” Kit swallowed. 

Magnus’s gaze was gentle, a little sad, maybe. “No one ever does, really.” 

“Kit!” They both turned; Tessa and Jem were running towards them, Tessa clutching Mina, who was howling. 

“She wanted to say goodbye to you again.” Tessa explained breathlessly. 

Kit nodded. Mina, he knew, was trying to delay his leaving, as she’d been doing for the past five hours. First she’d needed him to help her with a “super special mission”, which turned out to be potty-time, and then she’d said she needed to get him something, which had turned out to be a ploy to try to trap him in the library and prevent him from stepping into the Portal, and then there was the thing with Church. Kit concentrated on not thinking about the thing with Church. Some things were just to awful to relive. 

He understood, though. He’d felt the same way whenever his… whenever Johnny Rook had gone out on missions. _Daddy, stay,_ he’d begged. It had never been enough, of course, and eventually he’d stopped trying. Never enough- story of his life. 

_Stop,_ Kit told himself. _You have a family, a dad, a mom, a baby sister, who love you now. Stop thinking about… about Ty, about Johnny Rook._

Instead, Kit knelt, scooping Mina up in his arms, bouncing her up and down. “Don’t want Kit-Kat to go…” Mina was wailing. Kit kissed the top of her head. He would miss her too, he knew, miss playing with her, miss her soft inky hair and wide brown eyes. 

“I won’t be gone forever,” He told her. “I’ll be gone for a little while, Min-Min, and while I’m gone, I want you to be good for Jem and Tessa, okay? And then I’ll come back, and I’ll bring you a present, and we can play hide and seek again. And I’ll win this time, okay?” 

Mina giggled. “Never.” Kit snorted. “Kid’s getting too cocky for her own good… wait until I come back, I’ll show you.” He tickled her under the ribs. 

Mina squealed, and, finally, allowed Tessa to take her away. Kit turned to Magnus, firming his resolve. He pressed his lips together. “I’m ready.” 

And with that, he stepped into the portal. Kit nodded, grabbing his bag from where it sat next to Ty's. Kit saw Ty's eyes tick from his bag to Kit's, looking at the nearness, and Kit swallowed again. He felt like he was going to throw up. 

* * *

He didn’t know what he’d expected the LA Institute to be like after all these years. He’d spent too much time suppressing those memories, and in his dreams and nightmares the LA Institute was blurry, out of focus, because what mattered most was always Ty, not the setting. 

It looked the same as ever: sandy surroundings, the smell of salt in the air. Magnus popped out of the air next to him, a blue spark spinning on his finger. “Thanks,” Kit said, aimlessly. He cleared his throat. “For Portaling me, I mean.” 

Magnus winked. “My husband is, after all, the one who requested you here.” “That’s right,” Kit realized. He turned to Magnus, hopefully. 

“Did Alec tell you why he wanted me at the LA Institute?” Kit asked. 

Magnus shrugged. “Something about Faerie.” With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Kit realized that it must have been about his heritage, about the faerie blood in him. Kit swallowed, and, with that, hefted his bag onto his shoulder and went in. 

It was just as he remembered, the entry hall. Kit guessed that the rest of the Institute was probably mainly the same. He let his gaze travel around, absorbing everything he hadn’t been able to in his dreams- the shining floors, and- his heart twisted. There was a pile of suitcases tossed to the side. He knew, immediately, which one was Ty’s- the gray suitcase, perfectly positioned between two tiles, the only one that was upright. 

Kit set his bag down- next to Ty’s; he was that pathetic - and looked around, nervous. How did this work? Did he sleep in his old room? Were the others- Emma and Julian - there? Kit swallowed. “Hello?” Kit called. Kit half-turned to the entryway, wondering if Magnus was still outside, when he heard something- laughing, chatter. Instinctively, Kit’s fingers went to the knife in his pocket- he’d resisted becoming a Shadowhunter for about two seconds - and the door burst open. Kit blinked. Ty. 

Ty was there. Ty, _Ty_. Next to him was a boy- Kit felt an irrational surge of jealousy - with smooth skin and a slight accent, and on Ty’s other side was Dru. They were talking, Dru laughing and saying “ _Anush_ ,” in a chiding tone, and then they saw him. Kit gripped the knife harder, flushing. Ty was staring at him, mouth slightly parted. “Hi, Ty,” Kit said weakly. “Dru.” Silence. “Um, I don’t know you, but it’s nice to meet you, too.” Kit addressed the unknown boy. (It was a lie- seeing the boy next to Ty, laughing and talking so easily, felt _wrong_ to Kit. _He_ should be there, _he_ should be by Ty’s side.) 

The silence lasted for another heartbeat, and then Dru squealed, running up to him and throwing her arms around his neck. Kit staggered back, catching his bearings and squeezed her back, feeling a rush of fondness for Dru. 

“Hey, Dru! I missed you too!” Kit laughed. It felt… right, to hug a Blackthorn, even if it wasn’t the one he wanted- Kit pushed _that_ thought away. Dru sank back on her heels, grinning up at him. “I remembered what you taught me- I can pick a mean lock now,” Dru said, proudly. Kit chuckled. “How about you show me later? I bet I can still pick one faster than you- and I’m years out of practice.” 

“Hey!” Dru laughed, slapping his shoulder. Kit glanced behind her. Ty was still frozen, his face blank. Kit let himself drink in Ty, this new, older Ty. He was tall, almost as tall as Kit, the same inky hair, headphones slung around his neck, silvery eyes, and delicate, haunting, features. _Beautiful,_ Kit had thought the first time he’d seen Ty. He was still beautiful. 

The boy Kit didn’t know advanced, hand outstretched. Gritting his teeth, Kit shook it, forcing a smile to his mouth. “I’m Anush.” The boy- Anush - introduced himself. “Kit.” Kit said, aware of how brusque his voice sounded. Anush glanced behind him, at Ty. “Ty, aren’t you going to…” Anush asked, gesturing at Kit. Kit’s chest felt tight, like he was going to burst open. “No,” Kit said quietly, watching Ty. “No, he’s not going to.” 

Anush looked confused. Kit cleared his throat. “Should we maybe get our stuff up to our rooms?” Dru interjected, looking as if she was desperately trying to fight the awkwardness. Kit nodded, grabbing his bag from where it sat next to Ty's. Kit saw Ty's eyes tick from his bag to Kit's, looking at the nearness, and Kit swallowed again. He felt like he was going to throw up.


	3. A Foreign Country

After _that_ awkward interaction, Cristina had appeared, her dark locks twisted into a braided crown. “That’s faerie work,” Kit said curiously, peering at the intricate weave of her hair. Cristina blushed. Kit decided not to pry. Cristina led them to their rooms- Kit, Ty, and Dru to their old rooms, Anush to the next available room, which happened to be next to Ty’s. Kit was contemplating punching Anush in the face, but that wasn’t likely to endear him to Ty. _By the angel, Kit. Stop thinking about him._

After they’d unpacked (Kit’s room was just as he’d left it, albeit with the bedclothes crisply made) Cristina led them to the library. “Do you know why we were called here?” Kit asked her, hurrying after her. Behind him, Ty, Anush, and Dru, were discussing whatever they’d been discussing before. It took a monumental effort not to stare behind him. Cristina looked troubled. “I… yes, I know, because of my- ” Cristina broke off, blushing. “Because of Kieran?” Kit guessed, curiously. “That’s not- how did you - ahem. Yes, the reason you’ve been called here is for Faerie.” 

“Okay. Could you be a bit more specific?” Kit asked. Cristina sighed, nervously plucking at the braids in her hair. “Something’s going on in Faerie. We can’t spare any of the more experienced Shadowhunters, so this is the next best thing.” 

Kit glanced down at himself. “I mean, thanks, but- really?” Cristina snorted, and gestured behind them, at Ty, Anush, and Dru. “Three of our most capable Centurions- and you. With the faerie connections.” 

“Oh.” Kit looked down, cheeks warming. _Three of our most capable Centurions_ \- so Ty had done well, excelled, even, at the Scholomance. Of course he had. Mingled pride and jealousy- _he_ should be by Ty’s side - fluttered through him. Remembering himself, Kit looked up again. “Wait- a problem in Faerie? And they expect… us to solve it?” Cristina sighed. “I really shouldn’t be telling you so much before Emma and Julian debrief you, but no. We just need you four to sort of gauge the situation- get us more info. After that, we can deploy some of the more… experienced Shadowhunters.” Cristina was kind enough not to say anything about Kit’s experience, which consisted mainly of training with Jem. The only reason he’d been called was his faerie heritage, not talent. Of course. _You are not enough. You will never be enough._ Kit pushed those thoughts down- he could deal with those later. He needed to concentrate now. 

“We’re here!” Cristina called, and paused outside the library. No sound was made in response, and Cristina, frowning, pushed the library doors open. Emma and Julian were there, alright- just otherwise occupied. Kit choked on a laugh as Ty, Anush, Dru, arrived behind him. Cristina’s cheeks were apple-red. “Em!” Emma untangled herself from Julian, looking faintly embarrassed. “Sorry, Tina, we got bored waiting for you.” 

“Evidently, you found a solution for that.” Kit muttered, pressing against the wall to let Ty, Anush, and Dru pass. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to let them go before him- an inferiority complex? Dru laughed, and Kit felt pleased. Kit followed them, sitting in one of the squashy armchairs. Julian stood, crossing the room, and Kit knew what he was going to do before he did. He’d seen it before, seen the way Julian gripped his siblings before. “Ty, my baby,” Julian was murmuring, and then it was Dru’s turn. Both were looking simultaneously pleased and terribly embarrassed. 

Emma laughed, turning her eyes on Kit. Kit swallowed. “Hi, Emma.” Anush was looking grumpy, possibly because he alone was exempt from any sort of reunion. Kit felt a rush of vindictive pleasure. 

“Christopher Herondale, buddy,” Emma was saying, eyes sparkling. “Buddy, buddy. Nice to see you, saying goodbye to you really tore at my heartstrings- oh, wait, we never said goodbye to you.” 

Kit winced. 

“Sorry, Emma. I thought it was best to just, sort of… do it cleanly. A clean break. Also, I didn’t think you guys cared that much.” Kit broke off, flushing. He hadn’t meant to say that much. 

“Well, all is forgiven- the past is a foreign country, as they say.” Emma sprang up, a Marked hand gripping Julian’s shoulder. “So, you might be wondering why we called you here.” 

“No. Cristina filled me in.” Kit answered, leaning back in his armchair. Emma turned, glaring at Cristina, who looked meek and repentant. “Cristina, I was really looking forward to this!” Cristina began apologizing. Emma began forgiving. Julian began looking exasperated. 

Ty cleared his throat. “Cristina didn’t fill us in.” His voice wasn’t exactly the same as Kit remembered it- it was richer, deeper - but it was pretty close. Kit bit his lip. “Well, then!” Emma began pacing. “There’s a problem in Faerie. Not the blight. Different problem. Our Sensors are going haywire over there- some demonic presence- except not a demonic presence. You- ” She pointed at the four of them. “Are going to figure it out. You’re going to go over there and run recon, with tents. You’re going to sneak around- but not do anything - and report back to us- without exposing us, be careful about communication - and then once you’ve got enough info- _we_ will decide when that is - you can go- but _don’t_ leave the tents behind. Good quality stuff. Got it?” 

“So, to be clear,” Kit summarized, smiling slightly, “There’s a problem in Faerie that’s not like a different problem that was there years ago, most likely caused by a demonic presence that is not a demonic presence, and we have to figure out- with tents - without doing anything, and report back to you without making it clear that we’re reporting, and when we’ve got enough info for you, which is decided by you, we’re can return, without leaving the tents behind.” 

Emma pointed at him. “Attaboy.” Ty began laughing. Kit felt warm- Ty was laughing at _his_ joke. “Wait.” Anush said, eyes narrowing at Kit. Kit narrowed his eyes right back- he _definitely_ did not like Anush. “I understand why _we’re_ here,” Anush continued, gesturing to Ty and Dru, as well as himself, “But why _him_?” He pointed at Kit. Kit clenched a fist. Correction: he _hated_ Anush. Cristina looked worried. “Ah,” Emma said, looking slightly shifty, eyes darting to Kit’s. He could read her expression clear as day: _Can I tell him?_

Kit stood. He felt slightly shaky- he hadn’t had breakfast. Maybe that was it. “Because I can get you into Faerie. And help you while you’re in there.” Anush looked confused. “How can _you_ get us into Faerie?” Kit bit his lip, then spoke. 

“Because while I am half gloriously handsome Herondale, I am also half elite faerie royalty.”


	4. Everywhere Under The Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter: Kit faces emotional trauma like a man. My poor baby :(

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I haven't been posting. Do I have a reason? Yes, of course! Laziness! This, I swear, will all change, and this chapter's a long one. 1k+ words, although that actually doesn't seem that impressive now. Sorry, I'll post more tomorrow. Enjoy, my lovelies.

Happiness was: Anush’s face, shocked and sheepish. Kit sat down, feeling ridiculously satisfied with himself- and then his eyes fell on Ty. Ty, looking shocked, eyes like moonlight.

“Spoken like a Herondale,” Emma snorted, tucking a curl of golden hair behind an ear (Julian’s eyes followed the movement, lingering on the light shattering off the gold of her hair). Kit shrugged; “Why deny it?” (The thing was, acting like he was fine almost made it fine.) 

“Okay! So, we leave tonight. Shower, get ready, savor the modern plumbing.” Emma summed up, hand snaking around Julian’s wrist. His eyes flew to hers, the pupil darkening, and _yep_ Kit should leave. They should all leave. Kit got to his feet, not bothering to check if Ty was following (because what was the goddamned _point_?) 

Kit stalked upstairs, making his way to his room. “Kit?” Kit whirled, eyes falling on Dru. Ty and Anush were behind her, Anush pointedly not looking, Ty looking curious. Ty- curious about _him_? A match lit, tossed into the gasoline-doused mess of Kit, inextinguishable. “What, Dru?” 

“That lock picking contest?” Dru had the nerve to stick her tongue out, and Kit rifled a hand through his hair, beating back a yawn. He’d woken up at 3 a.m, the butterflies in his stomach keeping him from falling back asleep. “Yeah, okay.” 

“You pick locks?” Anush interrupted, tossing the too-cool-to-care pretense. Kit paused, slipping a hand in his pocket and drawing his picks out. He’d lied to Dru; he practiced almost everyday, on an old lock of Jem’s. 

It was, after all, the only thing he had left from Johnny Rook. 

( _Stay downstairs, kid- and then Ty, a knife at his throat, gray eyes like moonlight- beautiful - the howls of demons. His father, torn apart. A name he’d never thought was his: Christopher Herondale._ ) 

Kit spun the picks on his hands, nimbly, the silver flying around his knuckles. 

(Silver- the color of Ty. Gold was Kit’s, but silver would always be Ty’s. _Stop goddamned thinking about him_.) “Can I watch?” Anush looked eager, and so awed that Kit could _feel_ his hatred weakening. Kit shrugged. 

Ty looked aggravated. “ _Anush_.” 

Anush turned to him, eyes widening. “Don’t you want to watch?” 

* * *

“Fifty- _fifty_ , do you hear me? - bucks on Kit.” Anush said, and Kit glanced up. He didn’t hate Anush anymore, although if Anush scooted any closer to Ty, Kit might reconsider it. “Smart choice.” 

Dru squawked in protest, brow furrowing in frustration. Kit laughed, about to say something funny, witty, and then Ty spoke, and all thoughts of locks and contests flew from Kit, an exodus. “We’ve been doing this for three hours.” Ty observed, “Dru’s won thirteen times. Kit’s won ten.” Kit swallowed, his throat dry, and bent his head to the lock, fingers moving faster. It felt like a challenge, like a flag of no-surrender snapping frantically in the too-close air of his room. “Fifty on Dru.” Ty finished. Kit scowled, and twisted his wrist, the pick aiming true. _Click_. Kit tossed the lock onto the coverlet. “You were saying?” 

Ty laughed- Kit had imagined it so many times, the sound of Ty’s laugh, in dreams and night terrors ( _Ty’s laugh tumbling with him as he fell, down, down, down, a spill of moonlight precisely the color of his eyes;_ beautiful.) Kit felt sick, dizzy. 

“So, how do you know the Blackthorns?” 

Kit had been staring at Ty; he tore his eyes away (it felt like ripping his skin off). 

“I stayed with them after my father was murdered by demons.” Kit said pleasantly. Ty made a low noise, eyes large and bright. Dru had dropped her lock, looking concerned. (Howls, and horror. _Daddy._ Blood, the darkness of it, smeared on the floor in a wine-colored fan. Ty, and knives.) 

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Anush’s voice was subdued now. Kit spun a lock pick on his knuckles, avoiding Ty’s eyes. “It’s fine. It was a long time ago.” 

“It was three years ago.” Ty spoke, and Kit glanced up, surprised, but Ty was looking at Anush. Kit shrugged, going back to his locks. The memories rose up, thick and jagged and yellowing with age. Kit swallowed them down; ( _what kind of son was he, what kind of son had he been?_ )  


“Where do you live now?” Anush asked. _Why do you care_? 

But Anush was Ty’s friend, so Kit slipped the pick in his pocket and answered. “As of tomorrow, in Faerie. In a tent.”

Dru snorted. Anush looked annoyed. “He lives with Tessa and Jem, in Devon.” Ty spoke, not looking at Kit. 

“Oh. Why’d you leave?” _Anush._

Kit got to his feet, unsteadiness rocking him, jolting him. He concentrated on snapshots, tiny things: the well-worn floor beneath his feet, the half-moon scar on Ty’s lip, his eyes full of _there’s nothing if you aren’t there_ . 

His eyes didn’t look like moonlight anymore; they were the color of the lake when everything had imploded; the sheen of black water and everything underneath. Snapshots. Tiny things. “Kit,” Dru said, getting to her feet. 

And then Kit was in the hallway, lungs collapsing; a cave crumbling in on itself, dirt and stifling darkness. He needed to be _outside_ , needed the sky. He ran, steps scatting lightly on the stairs. _Why’d you leave?_

Kit cleared the stairs, and then he was on the roof, nothing in between him and crushing weight of Los Angeles sky, blindingly blue. 

He was fine; it was _fine_ , but the roof brought back Ty and _I need you to hold me_. (Holding Ty, lost in a sea of sky and nighttime, until he was shaking with the effort of it, until he didn’t know where he ended and Ty began.) Kit sank to his knees, despair rising, and with it, darkness- was _nowhere_ safe? Ty existed everywhere under the sky, everywhere under heaven. 

He couldn’t think, his thoughts were trickling out of his eyes in salt-cracked rivers. 

Snapshots. Tiny things. Ty’s laughter, a sea-star held lightly in his palm, a ferret curled around his neck, the way he loved living things. 

Ty brushing a curl of Kit’s hair out of his eyes, fingers grazing his temples; electricity, heat. 

Kit was drowning, drowning in a sea of Ty, and he floundered desperately, pulling the memories towards him like driftwood, but they were made of iron and steel and things that were far heavier, dragging him down, and as the waters closed over his head, Kit thought, dizzily, _I love you. I love you. I love you._

Kit’s shoulder’s shook, but the salt trickling from his eyes was seawater, not tears, tides and currents of Ty. He was _okay_ , he was fine, he had Jem and Tessa and Mina, but if Cirrenworth was home, then the LA Institute was his downfall. _Downfall._ The edge of the roof was close, so temptingly close. He wouldn’t do it, but he let himself dream about it- falling, falling, free. Blessedly empty of Ty, blessedly free of Johnny Rook. _Free._

Kit’s eyes flew open, he gasped, fingers scrabbling at the roof, reassuringly steady under his palms. “Kit?” _Ty._


	5. Whatever Gods Watched Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kit and Ty *kind of* talk it out- okay, not really, but they do something better. Oh, and Anush wins the Most Unwelcome Interruption award of the year. And then Faerie. <3 sending love and kisses, hope everyone reading this stays safe and healthy during the quarantine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I SAID I would hold off on posting until I had a longer chapter, but I couldn't resist.

Kit whirled, wiping at his eyes. Somebody else might balk, somebody else might ask _Are you crying_? But this was Ty, and Ty didn’t ask useless questions.

“You’re crying.” Ty stated, simply. Kit said nothing- he didn’t know what to do with his hands, his _face_. Ty crossed the roof, seating himself next to Kit. 

“Why do you care?” It came out harshly, and Kit flushed. “I mean- I thought you were mad. At me.” Ty tilted his head, so dizzyingly near. “Why?” Kit looked down. “Because- because I left. I didn’t say goodbye.” Ty looked faintly confused. 

“You told me you wished you’d never met me.” Ty said, after a pause. “You left. You didn’t say goodbye. I thought you hated me.” 

Kit squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted- he wanted to _touch_ Ty, wanted to hold him like he had almost four years ago, wanted to lean his head on Ty’s shoulder, but three years’ distance separated them. “I could never hate you. You’re- you’re unhateable.” Ty let out a soft laugh. “I don’t think that’s a word.” 

Ty tucked a lock of hair behind his hair, fiddling with something in his pocket. “Why were you crying?” He asked, quietly. Kit _knew_ , rather than felt, his entire face had gone up in flames. “Yeah, I don’t want to talk about that.” 

Ty let out a frustrated noise, leaning back on his elbows. _I love you, Ty. I love you._ “Where’s Livvy?” Kit asked, desperate to change the subject. “She’s doing something.” Ty said, quietly. Mysterious Ty. “Doesn’t that hurt you? Being apart?” Kit asked in an attempt to distract himself from the nearness of Ty. 

Ty tugged the collar of his shirt low, and Kit stopped breathing. The elegant curve of Ty’s collarbone, the indent at the base of his throat. By the Angel. And resting on Ty’s sternum… Kit glanced up at Ty. “That’s… you’re wearing my necklace I gave Magnus.” Ty nodded. “Magnus put some spell on it- I’ve been trying to figure it out for _years_ -” His face twisted in frustration, and Kit couldn’t help it- he reached out shaking fingers, resting them on the cool metal. Ty had gone silent. 

Kit withdrew, flushing. “Sorry, I know you don’t like being touched. Out of the blue.” Ty murmured something Kit couldn’t make out. “What?” 

“Why- why did you leave?” Ty asked. Kit stiffened. The world had gone cold, the sky yawning emptily above. _Why did you leave?_ “You know why.” Kit said, voice coming out more viciously than he’d intended. 

“I really don’t. I never did.” 

“ _Seriously?_ ” Kit whispered. _Goddamnit_. 

Ty drew away from Kit, looking down. “You were helping me, you weren’t stopping me! We were going to raise Livvy _together_! I thought- I thought you missed Livvy too, I thought you wanted Livvy back, too.” 

“Of course I missed Livvy, of course I wanted her back, but what you- what _we_ -did is _wrong_ , you know that. Ty. You must know that.” Kit interrupted. His throat felt tight. 

“You didn’t _tell_ me. You went along with me- I didn’t _know_ that you thought it was a bad idea. And then you told me-” Ty broke off. 

Kit couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t _breathe_. “That I loved you?” The words came out bitterly. “Well, yeah. There are a lot of things I regret about those days.” 

Kit stood- he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t focus. Ty. “This was a mistake,” Kit said, more to his shoes than to Ty, and walked away- or would have, if Ty’s hand hadn’t caught his wrist. 

“ _Ty_.” Kit tried to pull away, but Ty was stronger, his grip on Kit’s wrist like steel. 

“I want to be like before.” Ty said, eyes fixed to the roof. “Kit, I want to be friends again. I’m sorry about what happened. I know you missed Livvy and I did, too, and I- we - did something stupid. But Livvy’s back now, isn’t she?” Ty’s voice was pleading, and Kit relented, sitting down next to Ty. 

_He wants to be friends again. He wants to be friends._ “Okay.” Kit whispered, what else could he say? Kit cleared his throat. “And the other stuff- the reason I left, everything else, we can just- can we just forget it?” Ty looked at him, gray eyes screened by thick lashes. “Okay.”

__

__

“Okay.” Kit echoed. Kit smiled involuntarily. “Can I- can I hug you?” 

Ty nodded, and Kit turned, awkwardly, folding Ty in his arms. Ty was warm, his arms wrapping around Kit’s waist, chin on Kit’s head, and Kit curled in the warmth of Ty, face buried in the crook where Ty’s neck met his shoulder. 

Ty smelled like sage and sea, and Kit was dizzy, delirious, this couldn’t possibly be real, he couldn’t be in Ty’s arms, promising to be friends again, Ty couldn’t be here. 

But Ty was squeezing him, too, murmuring words into Kit’s hair, and Kit felt hot and loose all at once, his fingers finding the knobs of Ty’s spine. 

Ty made a soft sound against Kit’s hair, fingers tangling in the hem of Kit’s shirt, rucking against the skin, and suddenly Kit couldn’t breathe for a different reason. _Ty’s laughter, a sea-star held lightly in his palm, a ferret curled around his neck, the way he loved living things. Ty brushing a curl of Kit’s hair out of his eyes, fingers grazing his temples; electricity, heat._

Kit’s shoulders were shaking- he wasn’t crying, but this was _Ty_ , so close after _more than three years_ and Kit couldn’t- 

“Um. Guys?” _Anush_. Kit reconsidered- he definitely, definitely, hated Anush. 

Swiftly, he untangled himself from Ty, praying to the Angel, to whatever gods watched him that no traces of Kit’s previous tears lingered. 

“Am I- am I interrupting something?” Kit closed his eyes. _Calm down. Do not murder Anush. Anush does not deserve a fist to the face. Or the stomach. Or the groin. Or the-_ Kit opened his eyes, realizing he’d been silent for too long, too occupied in imagining punching Anush. 

Anush was backing up, looking scared. “Um, yeah. I’ll just let you guys…” Anush made a series of vague gestures that could have indicated anything from petting a turtle to stroking the underside of a particularly ticklish tiger, and Kit groaned, getting up. 

“We should probably get back, too.” Kit explained, gripping Ty’s hand and pulling him up. Ty nodded, his hand warm and calloused, fingers long and slim, and Kit let go, flushing. 

_Do not think that way, Kit._ Kit followed Anush down the stairs, blinking at the sudden darkness of the Institute. 

* * *

“Dru, babes,” Emma was saying, eyes glinting. “You’re going to be staying with three teenage boys for an indefinite amount of time. You need my tips.”

Kit choked. “One of those boys is her _brother_ , and the other two are like three years older,” He pointed out. Dru looked like she was trying not to laugh. Ty looked like he wasn’t paying attention, his fingers playing absentmindedly with the cord of his headphones. 

Emma glared at all of them, taking Dru to the side to whisper something. She appeared to be pressing several objects into Dru’s hand. Kit recognized a Taser, pepper spray, and what appeared to be a panic button. 

Kit snorted. 

Emma and Dru were back, Emma looking slightly appeased. “You really don’t have anything to worry about, Emma.” Kit told her, hefting his bag. “I will not be trying anything, I can guarantee you, Ty’s her brother and would definitely beat the living shi- crap, sorry, out of anyone who tried anything, and besides, Dru could definitely take Anush in a fair fight.” 

Anush began protesting, citing some obscure Scholomance-y stats, and Kit stopped listening, walking over to Ty. Ty glanced at him, smiling briefly before returning to his thoughts. 

“Everyone set?” Emma gave each of them a quick look-over. Kit nodded, shouldering his pack. “Okay. Here are the tents, there are three. You guys figure that out yourself, but Dru gets her own tent.” Dru and Emma exchanged a discreet fist bump. 

They were on the beach, gazing at the lapping waves. Cristina was looking nervous, most likely because she’d given them her most precious family heirloom to use for an indefinite amount of time. 

“What are we waiting for, actually?” Kit asked, scratching his neck. Emma stretched lankily, eyes fluttering. “We’re waiting for- _shit!_ Go, go!” 

Cristina made a screaming sort of noise and pushed all four of them towards the water. “Jump!” Unthinkingly, Kit did, and his feet- landed. Bewildered, Kit looked down- he was _standing_ on water, on moonlight. “What the actual flying fu- fudge,” Kit amended, shooting a quick glance at Dru, who rolled her eyes. “I’m walking on water- Do I count as Shadowhunter Jesus now?” 

Emma muttered something to herself (Kit suspected she was making a note of that joke to recycle later), but Kit didn’t care because Ty was laughing, the sound of it free and easy in the moonlit blackness. 

Kit clenched his fist, forcibly tearing his thoughts away from Ty. He turned, shooting a glance at Cristina. “We just keep walking?” Cristina nodded. Emma was dancing up and down. “Have fun! Good luck- by the _Angel_ , it’s freezing - and Dru, remember what I told you! Panic button!” Kit laughed, slowing down to be next to Ty. “Do you know what’s at the end of this?” Ty asked him, touching his arm. It was barely a touch, more like a graze, but Kit felt like his veins were full of fire. Kit shook his head. “I know something- a creature - is waiting for us at the end. I think it’s friendly.” Ty looked curious. “How does that work? To what degree do you normally sense faerie-things?” 

Kit snorted. “I don’t normally rate it based on degrees. I don’t know.” Ty nodded, eyes alive and thoughtful as they only ever were when he was figuring something out. “We should test it later.” Kit nodded. 

“Do you-” Kit started, and then broke off, shooting a quick glance behind them. Dru and Anush were chatting animatedly. Ty was looking confused. Kit gestured in front of them. “Short walk, but we’re here.” 

* * *

It was a phouka, with bare feet and long, dark, hair. He was observing them with interest. Kit turned to face Ty. “We’re supposed to go up to him, one at a time. The phouka will make us an offer. We accept. We gain passage to Faerie.” He told Ty in a low voice. “I’ll go first.” Kit made his way to the phouka. “Another Shadowhunter,” the phouka observed, “Although a different-” the phouka broke off, looking terrified.

“My liege!” The phouka bent, his hair brushing the moonlight. Kit flushed, glancing behind him. Ty, Anush, and Dru were all watching avidly. 

“There’s no- you don’t have to. Erm. Bow or anything.” The phouka straightened. “Whatever you wish, my liege.” Kit slid a hand in his pocket, gripping his stele for confidence. “But surely,” the phouka was saying, “Surely you are not here to request passage into the Shadow Lands?” Kit raised a brow. “Why not?” 

“Why, my liege,” The phouka lowered his voice, glancing conspiratorially behind Kit, as if he and Kit were in on some secret- which, both being fey, he supposed they were - “If you wished to make your way into the Shadow Lands, you do not require my assistance.” 

Kit sighed. “I know that, but they’re coming, too.” He made an encompassing gesture behind him. The phouka nodded. “Well then, my liege. Lir’s Gate awaits you and your companions.” With a bow, the phouka moved out of the way, gesturing towards a swirling archway of water and light, which had clearly not been there just moments earlier. 

“Come on!” Kit yelled, and Ty surged towards him, looking worried. “What did he say?” Kit nodded towards the archway. “We’re supposed to go in that way.” 

“He didn’t ask for payment?” Ty questioned. “Emma said he would.” Kit shook his head. “Come on-” And the water started fracturing underneath them, giving way to a tempestuous sea. “ _Shit_.” Kit whispered, grabbing Ty’s hand and diving for the archway. 

* * *


	6. Unattainable Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kit, Ty, Dru, and Anush, play Never Have I Ever. Alcohol involved, just a warning- I don't write too explicit fics, but just in case.

They landed, hard, on the grass. Kit let go of Ty, coughing hard. He was soaked, all of them were. Kit opened his eyes, brushing the salt-water from his eyes. It was night-dark, the faerie stars peppering the sky richly, unbelievably colorful, beautiful in the way that unattainable things were. “Wow,” Kit breathed. The sky was more bright than night, color spilling across the sky.

Kit mentally reviewed what Emma and Cristina had told them: _We’re sensing demonic activity- well. Not exactly demonic. Something weird. Use your Sensors- when you hit a particular area where the Sensors get all weird and blippy, that’s your goal. There’s some heavy glamour there, which is where you, Kit, might come in handy. We just need you to figure out what’s happening. Send fire-message updates every other day, and that’s pretty much it._

“We should probably set up temporary camp here,” Kit informed them. “Get some sleep. We can find this area that Emma was talking to us about later.” 

Sleeping in the same tent as Anush. Kit couldn’t resist wrinkling his nose. 

“Hey, are any of you actually sleepy?” Dru asked brightly, popped her head out of her tent. “No, why?” Kit grinned. He liked Dru- not like _that_ , of course, but he liked her. “If we’re going to be spending all this time with each other, we should get to know each other,” Dru pointed out. Kit surreptitiously slid his bag onto his shoulder, acknowledging that that was indeed the case. 

There was a chorus of agreement, and then Ty offered his tent (they were all of the unspoken belief that no one was to disrupt the girl-ness of Dru’s tent). “So,” Kit said, eyes bright, “What exactly did you have in mind?” Dru laughed. “You’ll see.” 

* * *

“Never Have I Ever?” Ty questioned. Ty looked like he was about to protest, but Anush interrupted. “How do you play Never Have I Ever?”

Kit leaned against the tent wall. They were sitting in a loose circle, Kit between Dru and Anush. “Basically, we take turns. Someone says: ‘Never Have I Ever done something’ and whoever has done it drinks. The objective is to not get totally wasted.” Kit explained. 

“We don’t have alcohol,” Ty pointed out. Kit grinned. 

He slid his stash- three bottles of whiskey and a bottle of red wine - out from his bag. Anush and Dru appeared to have the same thought (Anush with a small, pocket-sized flask of vodka and Dru with a large bottle of champagne). Kit laughed. He wasn’t a drunk, wasn’t a stoner or a slacker who drank to drink. 

But, he could appreciate the appeal of alcohol. And he’d thought ahead. 

“Where did you get those?” Ty questioned, eyes fixed on the bottles. Kit shrugged, matter-of-factly twisting the cap on the first one. “There’s an old family vault of alcohol and other sinspiring items of interest at Cirrenworth. Figured I should grab a few.” 

“Sinspiring.” Ty repeated. “That’s definitely not a word.” Kit smiled. “Sure it is.” 

Anush cleared his throat, and Kit looked at him, irritated. “Shall we begin?” 

Dru clapped her hands together. 

“I’ll start.” Kit offered. 

He stretched, thinking. “Never Have I Ever….” It was hard- he’d done a lot of things. Gotten around. He was a gentleman, he was _nice_ (and hung up on Ty, but Kit pushed _that_ thought away), but he was also a teenage boy who lived in a small country town. 

“Never Have I Ever… killed a demon with a toenail,” Kit offered after much thought. (He’d killed a demon with a fingernail- not his, Jem’s, and he’d carved a rune on it beforehand - but a toenail was a different matter entirely.) 

Ty and Dru, not surprisingly, drank. Anush went next; “Never Have I Ever… kissed a girl,” Anush offered. (He didn’t seem to understand the game that well; he drank on that one, too). Kit reached for the bottle, thinking, unexpectedly, of Livvy. Livvy, and the gold streaks in her hair, the taste of her mouth. Livvy’s body, burning. Kit set the bottle down with a clank, the alcohol suddenly sour in his mouth. 

Dru reached for the bottle next, smirking. Kit let out a wolf-whistle. “Nice.” She smirked, a small blush coloring her cheeks. “It was at a party, and we were both severely drunk.” Anush’s eyes were wide. Kit wondered if he’d ever heard of being gay, or bi, or pan. Probably not. 

“Wait, a _Scholomance_ party?” Kit questioned. “Drunk at a Scholomance party?” Dru nodded. “And here I was thinking that the Scholomance was about hard work. Cleanliness. Virtue.” 

“It’s the Scholomance, Kit, not a convent.” Dru shot, and Kit snorted, “Touché.” Ty hadn’t drunken any, Kit noted. Ty hadn’t kissed a girl. Kit realized he was smiling, and immediately frowned in an effort to combat it. 

It was Ty’s turn next, he paused to think. “Never Have I Ever been arrested.” Kit made a face and reached for the bottle, he tossed back a sip. Ty’s mouth had touched this, Kit realized, and felt so warm he was almost burning. _Shit. Stop thinking like that, Kit Herondale_ , he told himself, sternly, and then wondered when he’d started thinking of himself as a Herondale. 

Dru was next. “Never Have I Ever. Hmm. Never Have I Ever had sex.” Kit made another face and reached for the bottle again, almost colliding with Anush’s fingers. Kit leaned back magnanimously, gesturing for Anush to take a sip. Ty was looking at him thoughtfully, gray eyes like moonlight, like silver and stones; solid, permanent, things. 

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a guy with experience,” Kit commented, looking at Anush. Anush flushed, looking annoyed. “Not that you’re not very… attractive and all,” Kit continued, although that was exactly what he’d meant, “But isn’t the Scholomance pretty hard-core? Where do you get the time? Also, I’ve attended a small school before. Dating sucks, because every person you date has either dated your best friend or dated someone who’s dated your best friend’s ex.” 

Anush grinned, making Kit’s dislike of him increase exponentially. “Like Dru said, it’s not a convent. And it’s really not that complicated. Especially when you know what you’re doing.” 

Kit smirked. “So it must be pretty complicated for you, then.” 

Dru laughed. Kit could see Ty’s tiny smile, eyes gleaming like river water. Anush spluttered. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Kit shrugged. Anush would take the bait, he could already tell. _Five. Four. Three. Two-_

“How many girls have _you_ dated, then?” Anush retorted. Kit frowned. “My inner feminist is preventing me from answering that, you toxic male.” 

Dry high-fived him. Anush looked confused. “What Kit means to say is that you’re objectifying women-” Dru started, but Kit wasn’t done. “You’re treating them like trophies,” Kit interrupted. “Like, whoever’s had the most girls wins. Sorry, but no.” 

Anush gave him an arrogant smile, and Kit tensed, blood lighting. That arrogant _look_. “So what you’re trying to say is that you haven’t…” 

Kit reached for the bottle, downing a gulp before setting it down. “Okay, I sincerely apologize to every human on the planet.” Kit groaned. He looked straight at Anush. 

“What counts as dating?” Anush shrugged. “Like, kissed. More than kissed.” Kit laughed. He had already won. “So whoever’s kissed the most people wins?” Kit asked, to be sure. Anush nodded. Kit nodded to him. “You first.” 

Anush settled himself more comfortably on the floor. “Eleven girls.” Anush answered, smugly. Dru choked, Ty looking surprised. “Who?” Ty asked curiously. Anush began naming several girls that Kit didn’t recognize, much to the apparent shock of Dru. Anush finished, nodding to Kit. Kit bit his lip; he knew what he had to do. 

“Seven girls,” Kit started- Anush began crowing in victory, and Kit waggled a finger. “I’m not finished. Seven girls…. and thirteen boys.”


	7. Reunions and Rememberings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We pick up where we left off.

There was a moment of silence, and Kit felt Ty’s eyes on him- burning the color of starlight, his expression unreadable. Dru broke it, giggling. “I thought you were straight!” Kit leaned his head against the tent wall, “Did you just _assume_ my sexuality?” falling from his mouth carelessly. He took a swig of the whiskey.

Anush spoke, his eyes accusatory. “So you- you’re _gay_?” Kit sighed, setting the bottle down. “Shockingly, no. I’m bi. I like girls, hence the seven of them I’ve kissed.” Anush sat up. “But _thirteen_ boys.” Kit groaned. “Yes, which is why I’m bi.” 

At Anush’s blank look, Kit groaned- in earnest, this time - and explained. “Bisexual? It’s when you like boys and girls.” Anush frowned. “That’s not a thing.” 

“Mark’s bisexual,” Ty pointed out, fist clenching slightly. Kit caught the tiny motion, noted it. He knew what it meant: Ty had learned over the years that he needed to be careful, that not everyone would accept his family- a family not composed entirely of neurotypical straight Shadowhunters of pure lineage. Kit tensed, wanting to do _something_ , he wasn’t sure what. “And so is Kristen Stewart. She’s my bicon.” At Dru’s blank look, he clarified: “bisexual icon”. 

Anush nodded, looking like he was absorbing an intense amount of information at once. “So, wait. Do you- do you like _me_?” 

Kit smirked. “Damn, okay. Coming on a little strong, aren’t you?” Anush looked confused. Kit decided not to waste any of his humor on Anush. “No, I do not find myself attracted to you. It’s more of the opposite, if you catch my drift.” 

Anush leaned in, now looking fascinated instead of appalled. “So, wait. I’ve always wanted to meet somebody like you. I have questions.” 

Kit raised a brow. “Someone like me?” Anush rolled his eyes. “You know, like a gay person.” Kit groaned, loudly. “For the last time, I am not gay.” Anush waved a hand dismissively. “Disexual, whatever-” “- _Bisexual_.” Kit muttered, letting it go. 

“So, do you have a preference?” Anush asked, and Kit, seeing how Dru and Ty looked curious as well, Kit decided to humor him, lying on his stomach. Kit waffled his hand back and forth. “Eh, ish.” “Your dating life is 65% male.” Ty noted. Knowing him, he’d done the math as soon as Kit had let loose the numbers. 

“Well, when you put it that way… yeah, I guess I have a preference.” Kit shrugged. 

“Okay, what’s the most attractive part on a guy’s body?” Anush asked eagerly. 

“‘For me personally- eyes, lips, ass.” Kit said immediately. _Eyes_ \- Ty’s gleaming up at him. _Lips_ \- Ty biting his lower lip, deep in thought. _Ass_ \- he wasn’t going to go there. 

“Okay, next question.” Anush leaned in, looking nervous. Kit had a vague suspicion what his next question would be. “How do you…you know?” Anush made a vague grinding motion. “How do I dance like an awkward closeted seventh grader at a boring hetero middle school dance whose only access to dance is YouTube videos of Celine Dion concerts? No idea, you’ll have to consult your inner self for that.” 

Anush was silent. The pop culture references were no doubt baffling, Kit thought. Gratifyingly, Dru was snickering. He couldn’t see Ty’s face, Ty was looking down, fiddling with his headphone cord. 

Kit decided to take pity on him. “There are many different ways.” “What’s your favorite?” Anush asked curiously, and Kit decided enough was enough. 

“My sex life is off limits. Like, seriously. Stop being a stereotypical 90’s straight person.” Kit snapped. Anush flushed. 

There was a pause, and then Dru said: “Okay! Should we get back to the game?”, and they spent the rest of the night playing Never Have I Ever, laughing and drinking and learning. Kit, snorting so hard (Ty had just told how he’d caught two Scholomance teachers going at it in the armory) he almost cried, fell sideways onto Dru’s lap, who, began petting Kit’s hair and comparing him to a golden retriever. “Your fur is so _soft_ , Kit, what conditioner do you _use_?” Dru, words slurred, was saying, and Kit, dizzy-eyed and giggle-drunk, fell a little in love with everyone there, even Anush, who appeared to be singing some sort of Shadowhunter-y drinking song ( _A hundred demons in the city, a hundred demons! Decapitate one, stab the other, ninety eight demons in the city!_ ) in the corner. Ty had moved away from him, edging closer to Dru, close enough that Kit could almost touch him with his pinky finger, if he wanted to. 

He wanted to- Ty, his hair messy and face soft, looked so appealing that Kit almost couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything other than stare. 

“Something tells me that this was not what Emma envisioned when she sent us here,” Dru slurred, and Kit giggled- _giggled_. “Something tells me that this was exactly what Emma envisioned when she sent us here.” 

Dru fell asleep shortly after that, using Kit as her pillow, and Kit, mind fogged with alcohol, followed suit. 

* * *

Kit woke, an uncomfortable sensation in his bladder informing him that he’d had too damn much to drink last night. His headache was pounding, but Kit carved a cocktail of runes on his forearm, effectively eradicating his hangover. _I shouldn’t have waited so long to take up the mantle of Shadowhunting,_ Kit thought as he crawled out, _It comes with some serious perks._

It was night-dark outside (Kit guessed it was maybe 2 a.m.) and Kit found a blissfully empty spot to take care of his business. He walked back, eyes slowly focusing- and froze. He hadn’t seen the landscape properly last night, but he saw it now- the tent perched on a grassy, cliff-side meadow, surrounded by forested land on one side, sea-cliffs on the other. _Ty_ stood on the cliffs, talking to a shimmering apparition. _Livvy_. Kit didn’t realize he was walking until he was there, standing beside Ty (Despite everything, Ty’s side felt so _right_ ). 

“Hi, Kit,” Livvy greeted him, and Ty spun, eyes landing on Kit. He’d changed into gear, his hair decently brushed and eyes awake. Kit realized that he was still in sweatpants, his hair the way it always was in the morning- a wild golden mess. He waved. “Hi, Livvy. Long time no see.” She smiled. “Where have you been?” Kit asked curiously, and Livvy hesitated, looking at Ty. She was asking if he- if Kit - could be trusted with the information. If Ty trusted him. 

Ty nodded, and Kit released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Ty turned, facing Kit fully, his eyes lingering on Kit’s hair, a strange expression on his face, almost wistful. “Livvy’s been keeping tabs on Idris. The Centurions have been watching us, they have some way to look at us. We’ve been trying to figure it out for years now.” Ty held up a small black notebook, which Kit assumed was for writing scientific observations. “So, Zara could be watching us at any time? Like, when I’m taking a shower, Zara could be watching me, and there’s no way of knowing?” Kit asked to clarify. Livvy laughed, nodding. “I _knew_ someone was watching when I TP’s Mr. Brookner’s house,” Kit said, half to himself. 

“Who’s Mr. Brookner?” Livvy asked curiously. Kit met her eyes, fighting a smile. Livvy, Ty, and him- it felt like old times, when Livvy was alive. “He’s the homophobic asshole who reported me to the police for making out with his grandson.” Kit shrugged. Livvy snorted. “How do you think the phone call went? Like- ‘Excuse me, sir. I’ve a crime to report. My grandson has been corrupted. No, not drugs. No, not alcohol. Sir, with gayness.’ Like, how do you report that?” 

Kit smirked. “Well, it was on his lawn, so I guess he reported evil on his property.” 

They talked and laughed, and it felt like Livvy never died. Like Kit never ruined anything. 

“Guys,” Ty interrupted them after five minutes, “Are we going or not?” 

Kit turned to him. “Going? Where?” 

Ty smiled, his eyes unearthly in the darkness. “Livvy thinks she can take us to Idris. To see for ourselves.” 

Kit blinked. “So, to be clear. This is a mission within the mission. Like, we traveled into Faerie, and every night we’re just going to travel to Idris and simultaneously keep an eye on what’s going on there and keep on eye on what’s going on here.” 

Ty nodded. Livvy looked nervous. 

Kit exhaled. It was a lot, but he’d waited years for this, to be able to be with Livvy and Ty again. “Well, whenever you’re ready…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you couldn't tell already.... I am improvising! Some fanfic authors have an outline and everything, but not I.
> 
> Instead, I use a system I call: WTSTWDAMTPUAYG (Write The Scenes That We Deserve And Make The Plot Up As You Go).
> 
> What I'm trying to say is that I am trying to figure out what to do, so chapters may be later than normal (I try to shoot for one posting every 2-3 days, of around 2k words). 
> 
> P.S. this chapter is muuuch shorter than I had intended ( sorry) because I was kind of busy on my other WIP which is in the Percy Jackson fandom about Solangelo, but THAT'S a whole 'nother kettle of fish. let's not go there.


	8. Also Known As Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DANCE TIME. (Kidding, sort of. Okay, not really). Kit and Ty and Livvy go somewhere and come back and stuff happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... It's been kind of a delay, sorry about that. I've been trying to get about 1 chapter every three days, but it's sort of been like 4 days. (My writing skills have been exhausted to zilch. This chapter has taken them all out of me. I am empty of writing skill. I did it for the fandom. I did it for Kitty). Hope you enjoy!

Ty nodded, and- and reached for Kit’s hand. Kit stopped breathing, stopped thinking, stopped _existing_ for a moment, there was nothing but Ty reaching for Kit’s hand and his long, slim, fingers, wrapping securely around Kit’s own.

_Combustion is a chemical reaction that occurs between a fuel and an oxidizing agent that produces energy, usually in the form of heat and light. It is also known as burning._ Kit vaguely remembered a science teacher reciting, before a woman with eyes as gray as Ty’s and a face like tenderness had knelt before him and told him his own name, before Livvy and Ty and _everything_. Combustion. 

Kit felt drunk, dizzy, thinking it wasn’t so bad three years ago, three years ago touching Ty didn’t nearly give him an aneurysm. 

But thinking about three years ago never led to pleasant thoughts, so he stopped. Breathed. 

Livvy was giving him a knowing look, eyes sparkling, and then she reached for both of their hands (Kit’s left, Ty’s right). 

She was dead and, most importantly, _not solid_ , but somehow, Kit felt a faint glimmer of sensation, felt her faintly gripping his hand. It wasn’t the same as holding Ty’s hand (nothing was), or holding an actual, alive, person’s hand, but it’s similar, if slightly muffled. 

Livvy breathed deeply, features wrinkling in concentration, and then suddenly Kit was everywhere and nowhere at all. It wasn’t like Portaling, it wasn’t like anything he’s felt before, but Ty was holding his hand and maybe that was why, maybe Ty was what made it different. 

They rolled out, gasping, onto hard cobblestone and the smell of the city. Kit, stumbling, almost fell face-first into the ground, but Ty caught him, a single hand gripping the back of his shirt. “Thanks,” Kit said weakly, and Ty smiled at him, gray eyes luminous. 

Kit turned, scanning the surroundings. He’d never been to Idris, but he’d heard about it- they said it was the one place where Shadowhunters could feel truly at home. When he’d asked Jem about it, he’d said: _You have never seen a city until you have seen Alicante of the glass towers_ , with the air of one quoting a well-known line from a profound book. 

Well. No offense to Alicante, but Kit personally preferred LA. It was nice, sure, the cobblestones smooth and the shops sufficiently charming and Shadowhunter-y, but there were no homeless hobos or weird, battered, weed dispensaries, which, in Kit’s opinion, was what made a city a city. 

“We should get off the middle of the street, try to blend in,” Livvy hissed. “They don’t have enough people to establish a regularly enforced curfew, but we still don’t want to attract attention.” 

Kit nodded, making for the side of the street that was cloaked in shadows. Ty followed, steps light and soundless, like a cat’s. Kit realized that he was only wearing sweatpants, which maybe wasn’t the best wardrobe choice of all time. 

“How many times have you come here?” Kit asked Livvy, who was floating a few feet above his head. “Many, many, times.” Livvy whispered, somehow making the statement sound simultaneously funny and creepy. 

“What kind of stuff have you seen?” Kit asked, curiously. Livvy snorted. “You do _not_ want to know, trust me.” 

“No, I really do.” Kit told her, grinning. He couldn’t help it- he’d always known, intellectually, that Livvy was back, and he’d even talked to her before, but it was one thing to have a frantic nighttime chat and another to share a whispered conversation in the process of trying to investigate evil. 

Livvy smiled conspiratorially, her eyes bright and Blackthorn-blue-green. “Well, all I’ll say is this: Zara and Manuel sharing an avocado bowl with Taylor Swift blaring in the background.” 

Kit began choking, on something he vaguely realized was laughter. Ty was grinning, eyes trained ahead of them. “I thought it was zucchini.” Livvy made a face at him. 

“I share a favorite musician with _Zara_ freaking Whatever-Her-Last-Name-Is-Because-I-Actually-Don’t-Care-About-Her-Enough-To-Find-Out.” Kit gasped. 

He screwed his eyes up at the mental image that came forth. 

“Oh my god, imagine: Zara and Manuel rocking out to _I Did Something Bad_ , except, like actually.” Kit murmured, and even Ty laughed. 

“Going on a murdering spree with the soundtrack of _Look What You Made Me Do_ ,” Livvy gasped out. Both looked at Ty expectantly. 

Ty smiled, his eyes lighting up, unexpectedly lovely. “Killing Downworlders to the tune of _Don’t Blame Me_.” 

They were all three of them giggling, shaking with laughter, and Kit paused to lean against a wall to support himself as he gave himself up to the giggles. Livvy drifted down, about to say something, and then her eyes went wide; she made a frantic motion. 

Kit turned, and saw Zara and Manuel. They were walking out of a building to the right, heads bent together, muttering something secretively. There was no time to hide, no time to do anything, and Kit felt a dull sense of horror. _Something_ , he thought, _I have to do something, something_ \- but there was nothing he could do. 

“I’m not saying it’s a bad idea, Manu, I just think that it’ll be hard to find an Iron Maiden if we’re trapped in-” Zara was saying, and then she looked up, directly at them. 

Livvy sucked in a panicked breath, Ty’s hands clenching, but Zara looked directly _through_ them, eyes focusing on the street ahead of them. Kit could feel a burning sensation in his hands, his mind suddenly fogged with fatigue, as if he’d been doing something difficult and complicated. 

“Oh my god, Manu, do you smell that?” Zara was saying, eyes wide. Kit tensed in fear, instinctively exhaling. Manuel twitched, eyes widening as he breathed deep. 

“Oh my god, is that-” Zara was nodding furiously, papers in her hand forgotten. “ _Meatloaf_.” Zara breathed in awe, sprinting in the direction of the glass towers. Manuel followed, hot on her heels. 

Kit let out a shaky breath, slowly lowering the magic he’d thrown around them. It felt different than it normally did, it felt thick and viscous and jagged, exhausting. 

Kit felt dizzy, lightheaded. Normally magic didn’t take that much out of him, but he felt bone-tired. 

Slowly, he slid to the ground, head in his hands. He heard Livvy say “Okay, _what_ just happened?” And then Ty was sinking to his knees in front of Kit, eyes extraordinary clear and bright. 

“Kit,” Ty was saying softly. Kit wasn’t listening, he was too busy staring at Ty, at his eyes and his features and the delicate indent of the hollow in his throat. 

The soft splay of his collarbones. Kit wanted to reach out and trace a finger, wanted to kiss the hollow of Ty’s throat. 

Normally, he was better at this, he was better at keeping his guard up. He had his walls, he had his barriers and precautions, but he was tired, the magic had taken something from him it hadn’t before. 

And he couldn’t help himself, he reached out, fingers gentle, tracing the line of Ty’s cheekbone. The air was tinged with gold, heavy with something sharp and bright and immense. Ty stiffened but didn’t pull away, his eyes widening, the clear gray of his eyes solidifying, darkening into solid silver. 

“Kit, what-” Ty whispered, and Kit remembered Livvy, floating above, peering at them curiously, remembered that Ty didn’t feel that way about him. That Ty probably never would. 

Kit pulled back, snatching his hand back. “Sorry.” Kit murmured, his voice hoarse. He blinked, cleared his throat. 

“I just- I’m really… Could you Mark me?” Kit asked. Ty hesitated, eyes flickering, and then nodded, sliding his stele out and carving an energy rune on Kit’s arm. 

It lit his blood, like caffeine kicking into his system, but not as much as it normally did. Energy moved sluggishly through his veins, not making much of a difference. Kit tried to say something, failed. 

Ty turned towards Livvy, saying something in a worried tone. Livvy floated down, peering at Kit. “I think he did something, to make Zara and Manuel not see us,” Ty said to Livvy, brow wrinkling. 

“But I just don’t know if this is _normal_ ,” Ty continued, looking frustrated. Kit wanted to smooth a thumb across the wrinkle in Ty’s forehead. 

Kit cleared his throat again. “It normally doesn’t- when I do magic. Normally, I feel fine…” Kit’s voice died. 

Ty and Livvy exchanged glances. “Do you think the Cohorts did something? Some sort of enchantment against faerie magic?” Livvy ventured, looking concerned. 

Ty bit his lip, and nothing else mattered, and Kit needed to stop staring, needed to stop. Kit let his head fall forward, onto his knees, concentrating on _not_ looking at Ty. 

Ty seemed to come to a decision, and grabbed Kit’s hand, sending flurry of sparks down Kit’s veins, into Kit’s bones, into his fucking _marrow_. 

Ty grabbed Livvy’s hand, and then Livvy was pulling them back, away, and then the cobblestones under him were vanishing and he was slipping between them and he was sprawled on the soft wet grass, gasping the name of the one thing he could never have. 

“Yes?” Ty asked, kneeling before Kit. Kit knew he’d been saying Ty’s name. He rolled over, refusing to say anything. 

Kit breathed, breathing in the dew and magic of Faerie. It rejuvenated him, the Energy rune kicking in. The sweetness of magic, the desolation of loss. 

Kit sat up. “I’m- I feel better now.” He glanced at Ty, and glanced away again. “I’m sorry.” Kit whispered, looking down. “I made you come back.” 

Ty shook his head. “If you hadn’t done what you did, Zara and Manuel would have found us, anyway.” 

Kit cracked a grin, stretching. “In that case, you’re welcome for saving your asses.” 

Livvy laughed, floating down to rest a gentle hand on Ty’s shoulders. “Nice recovery, Kit.” 

Kit winked and stood, slowly. They were on the cliffs, just outside the tents, the springy grass waving gently in the air. It was still dark out, the air chill, and Kit felt revived, the night air cool on his flushed face, energy flowing through his numbed veins like sweet cold cider. 

An idea struck him; he turned to Ty. “Do you want to try something? With my magic?” Kit asked him, and Ty looked up, eyebrows quirked in interest. 

“Try something? Like what?” Kit shrugged. “You talked earlier about wanting to test it out. It could be interesting to see how my magic functions in Faerie versus the regular world.” 

Ty’s eyes were lit with interest; he pulled the black notebook that Kit had seen earlier out. Livvy was notified to watch closely, to provide observations (Kit assumed that this scientific experimentation was something they did a lot). 

“Okay, you can start now.” Ty said, eyes on Kit. There was nothing else, honestly, besides the clear gray shock of Ty’s eyes, the quiet violence of Ty looking at _him_. 

Kit cleared his thoughts, closed his eyes, “Okay”. It was easy, easier than it usually was, to waken the magic in his blood. _Ty_ , he thought, and then his blood was alive, prickling with quicksilver power, until his veins bulged with it. 

Kit breathed deep. Being in Faerie made it oh-so-easy to summon power, and even easier to let go. He couldn’t lose control. 

Kit let go of the restrictions, the heaviness of his body, and let his magic bristle., exploding out his hands. Magic was coppery, with the tang of metal and the bright taste of salt on his tongue. 

It was play, letting the magic roll from his hands like droplets of water, lighting up the night in golden flecks. Ty’s eyes were wide, and Kit grinned. 

Kit drew his magic back, forming ropes of it, coiling it sleekly around his body, letting it lift him into the air. Ten feet, twenty, he rose, enjoying the heady easiness of Faerie, enjoying the pleasurable throbbing of power, like a second heartbeat. 

Kit tossed his head back, drawing on the wind. He called on the low rumble of thunder in the distance, on the sea-tossed waves, on the mist and fog and slickness of wet stone, summoning it. 

It was gentle at first, ruffling his hair lightly. Kit fed it like a bonfire, until it howled like a caged thing, until it whipped at his clothes and tore at his skin and bruised the sky, and he inhaled low and threw it up in the sky, where it raged harmlessly and dispersed. 

Power was addictive. Kit wanted the flames next, he thought of heat and pain and immolation. Combustion- _also known as burning_. A fire ignited in the palm of his hand, smelling of ash and crackling embers, and Kit breathed in deep, the low smolder of fire fluttering at his ribs. 

But fire was dangerous, and Kit smothered it with a command, watching as the flamboyance guttered to nothingness. 

The air was pregnant with possibility, with potential, and Kit raised a hand, hardly aware of what he was doing, breathing deep. _Fireflies_ , he thought, and they swarmed around his hand, little drops of starlight he’d imagined into existence. 

Had he created them, created life where before there was nothing, or had he summoned them from some boggy marsh somewhere? 

It didn’t matter; Kit blew on them, and they scattered, arcing through the darkness. Livvy was laughing; a bright, delighted sound, like bright water and brooks. 

They were both floating, Kit higher than her, and he flew to her, extending a hand. Giggling, Livvy took his hand, her ghostly slim fingers curling around his. 

Kit let his magic graze her not-quite-solid skin, let it probe gently at her skin, let her slowly accept it. Once he was sure she was comfortable, he bowed, and they danced. 

He’d taken ballroom dancing at Jem’s request, but this was something different, it was a mingling of every silly childhood dance you could think of: waltz, polka, salsa, flamenco, countless others. Livvy spun in his arms, hair flying gold and dark, and for a moment, Kit could have sworn she was solid, alive, warm under his hands. Kit drew the wind back, let it whip lightly at their hair and clothes. 

Ty’s eyes were bright, shining with happiness as he watched them, mouth spread in a wide captivated smile, fingers scribbling notes in his observations. 

They flew a wide, lazy, circle, Livvy twirling Kit. At some point they had switched the predetermined gender roles, and now Livvy dipped Kit dramatically, Ty laughing from below. 

Kit spun them, letting the wind spin them in a tight circle, until Livvy was gasping and dizzy and laughing at him to stop. 

They slowed to a stop, Kit curtsying and Livvy bowing. Kit gazed down, at Ty, his head craned up to watch them. Something moved in his blood, something whispered to him. Kit held a hand out; beckoning. “Ty? May I have this dance?” 

Livvy began cheering, hands clapping. (The sound of it was muffled, dimmer than a solid person’s would have been). 

Ty set his notebook down, pulling his sweatshirt off to protect it from the dew. He was wearing a thin black shirt under it, and Kit could see the muscles moving under the stretched-thin fabric. 

Kit let his magic flow it, making sure it was visible (he colored it gold) as it drifted cloud-like around Ty, settling like a scarf around his shoulders. Ty, eyes wide, let it. 

Kit closed his eyes, concentrating. In the mortal world, this would have been hard, but in Faerie it was as easy as breathing; he lifted Ty (slowly, so as not to alarm him) into the air as easily as he would have plucked a piece from a game of chess. 

Kit offered his hand. Ty took it, his fingers resting elegantly on Kit’s, and Kit thought he might die, thought every cell in his body might spark and break apart. 

Dancing with Livvy had been childhood, uncomplicated happiness. 

This was different. Ty’s hands settled around Kit’s waist, and Kit shivered, gasped, drowned- the warmth of Ty’s hands through the fabric of Kit’s shirt. 

“Shall we?” Kit asked, struggling to keep his voice even. Ty nodded. 

Dancing with Livvy had been different, yes, but he could still name the dances, recognize something as a waltz or a polka move. 

This was something that defied nomenclature, defied gravity, defied the science of everything. Ty felt like fire in under his touch, his movement graceful, catlike. 

They moved like quicksilver, like rhapsody, like song. Something primal, something verdant. 

Kit zoomed them down, until their feet skimmed the dewy prickle of the grass, and then up, so high that the air grew thin, so high that their heads broke the wet fog of the clouds. 

Livvy had let Kit control the movements, but Ty, once he had a fundamental understanding of how Kit’s magic worked, reached slowly with figurative fingers into the magic that Kit had given him, held it, and played with it (Kit almost gasped, having Ty touch his magic felt more intimate than anything he’d ever experienced before, had felt more intimate than kisses, more close than sex). 

Ty spun him, a steadying hand on Kit’s hips, and Kit fit neatly, perfectly into Ty when he’d balanced himself again. 

The pace increased, Kit flying them in a heady arc around the night, the wind on their faces heightening the glassy fire in his veins, Ty pushing them higher into the clouds. The air was thinner here, but Kit drew warmer, sweeter, air from the bottom, pushing it up until he and Ty could breathe properly again. 

It was sweetness, it was touch, the ecstatic violence of dance merging with the primal light of magic, fire. 

Ty’s hands, balanced on Kit’s hips, pressed him closer, and Kit gasped, instinct arching his hips into Ty’s. 

“Ty, _Ty,_ ” Kit whispered, and Ty slowed, looking at him carefully, but Kit didn’t want to stop. He shook off the worry in Ty’s eyes, reassuring him with his eyes that he was alright. 

Ty’s shoulders relaxed, slowly, and Kit could feel the crazy hammering of his heartbeat against Kit’s skin. Kit inhaled Ty’s smell of mist and pine and something that was Ty and would always be. 

Mist cooled and wetted Kit’s hair; he tossed it away impatiently, pressing closer to Ty. Exhilaration tasted like summer on his tongue as he flew them higher, then low enough to see Livvy who was clapping furiously, and then, past the cliffs. 

They had pressed close enough that Kit could almost sense Ty’s thoughts, their minds cupped close with Kit’s magic. Ty tensed as they flew past the cliffs, and then relaxed, the risk lighting his blood as it did Kit’s. 

Kit flew them high, fast, exulting in the wind and chill against the heat of Ty, and Ty was laughing as if he couldn’t stop, and Kit couldn’t. Couldn’t stop, that is, he was drunk on Ty, intoxicated on his closeness. 

Ebullience was arcing in his veins, and Ty leaned even closer, closing any remaining space between, and Kit made a gasping, drowning, sound. 

“Ty, did you-” Kit said voice desperate. _Did you ever love me?_ But he couldn’t say that. 

Kit closed his eyes briefly, tried to even his voice. “Did you miss me?” Kit asked instead, eyes flying open. 

Ty looked surprised, color high in his cheeks, and Kit wondered if Ty felt what Kit felt, the dizzying friction between the two of them. 

There was something that Kit could not parse, a confused oddness to the way Ty looked at Kit. Ty was taller than Kit, enough that Kit, if he moved just an inch closer, could press into the hollow of him, could fit under Ty’s chin if he bent his head against the crook where the smooth curve of Ty’s neck met the sharpness of his shoulders- 

Kit inhaled, sparks flying in his blood, wanting desperately to close the distance between them, to press his lips to Ty’s, but then Ty unexpectedly, smiled, breaking the moment. 

“Of course I missed you, Kit.” Ty said gently, his eyes clear and guileless, and ordinarily the words would have filled Kit with an inordinate amount of joy, but the easy tone with which Ty spoke made it clear: he didn’t feel the same way, he wasn’t affected. 

Heartsick, Kit moved away slightly. Ty’s eyes followed him, unreadable. They were hovering over the sea, and distantly, he could see Livvy floating above the cliffs. 

“We should… we should get back.” Kit said, lamely. The rosy fingers of dawn wisped from the line of the horizon, Anush and Dru would be up soon. Shadowhunters woke early. 

Ty nodded, reaching quite easily and naturally for Kit’s hand, so easily that Kit knew that Ty saw him as a friend. Friends held hands. 

“That was wonderful,” Ty told him, looking shyly cheerful. “You have more power than I expected.” Kit pretended to look offended, and Ty smiled again, lovely in the dawn, and Kit had to look away, something dark and sickening rising in him. 

Kit harnessed the wind again- with Ty holding his hand, it was easy. It propelled them to the edge of the cliffs; gently, they touched down. 

Livvy was enthusing about how maybe Kit should go into ballet. He could hear the soft sounds of Dru and Anush waking up. Dru, Kit remembered, didn’t know Livvy was… well, not alive. But not dead, either. 

“Bye, Kit.” Livvy whispered. She turned to her brother, “Bye, Ty.” Something unspoken passed between them, and Livvy passed a smooth affectionate hand over Ty’s hair, a smooth vaguely transparent hand smoothing over a curl in Ty’s hair. 

And then she was gone, and Kit and Ty headed to the tents, to prepare for a day of investigation and demon-hunting, except Kit felt like he was going to throw up. 

Ty. Ty didn’t love him and maybe never would, and Kit should be able to get over it, except he couldn’t, except distance had only heightened the attraction Kit felt, and now every time Ty touched him Kit felt his veins ignite, smolder for hours afterward. 

Kit bowed his head, staring at the ground. He couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t do anything but pretend, lie. Combustion- _it is also known as burning_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, i KNOW it's ooc for Ty to know Taylor Swift songs, but they had a laptop at the LA Institute, okay? He knows about Sherlock Holmes! *desperately tries to defend herself* He could- it's plausible- okay, it's not plausible. Ty doesn't seem like a Taylor Swift kind of person. But I did it for the joke.
> 
> So, let's just all pretend like Ty and Taylor Swift make sense, hmm? Also! A reader has informed me that because this is set in 2015-2016 Taylor Swift's Reputation album is unfortunately not out yet. I am not going to change my jokes, because I'm too worn out to make new ones. Just letting y'all know. 
> 
> P.S. I know that Ty is autistic and most likely would not like looking at Kit in the eyes. However, most of the times I talk about eyes have to do with Kit admiring Ty's eyes, which is not mutual eye contact. Sometimes Ty's eyes are "on him", but that could mean anything from Ty staring at Kit's hair like how do you get this amount of bedhead to Ty checking out Kit's ass. So. 
> 
> P.P.S. I'm writing my first ever chapter from Ty's point of view. Won't be a regular thing, just a little kind of *extra*, *behind-the-scenes* view of the whole dancing scene. I know I haven't written a new chapter in forever, please don't kill me, I swear it's coming this week. I have a new puppy, time is short. 
> 
> P.P.P.S. Yes, I have adopted a puppy. No, she's not potty trained (and she's too young to start, damn it).


	9. I Wonder If You Know How Lovely You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ty's perspective of the dance scene...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is LONG overdue, and it isn't even that long, I'm sorry, please don't kill/hate/find me. :(
> 
> I've been dabbling in all sorts of paltry excuses (I've had a lot of work- true, but not enough to really keep me from writing - I've had a lot on my hands with the new puppy- again, true, but that doesn't seem to get in my way of other things) but really, the truth is I've been immersed in other fanfictions and sort of keep lagging behind in myown writing. 
> 
> Please forgive me.

“Ty? Ty, are you listening?” Ty blinked, looking up. He’d been thinking about Kit- about how they’d made up. _I wish I’d never met you_.

But he’d hated it when Kit left, when the buzzing and the noises in his head got to be too much again, the bright lights and the blaring, harsh, whines overwhelming. Kit had held him, once, when it had gotten to be too much, arms wrapping tightly around Ty. 

_I wish I’d never met you_. How much of that- the kindness, the smiles, the way Kit had held him - had been a facade? 

(But he needed Kit- needed the quiet and peace that came about when Kit was there, and so Ty accepted that Kit would never- might never, he corrected himself, you never knew what might come - care about Ty.) 

Livvy glared. Ty felt awful, thinking of how inconsiderate he’d been. “I’m sorry, Livvy.” 

Livvy shrugged. “It’s okay.” Ty nodded. “What were you going to say?” “Just that Irene’s doing fine- the classmate you have, the one with the glasses - is taking care of her.” 

Ty smiled. “How many hours a day is he playing with her?” Livvy made a face. “Ugh, too many. I think she’s starting to like him better.” 

Ty frowned, thinking of all the books he had read on Carpathian lynxes. “I don’t think so, Carpathian lynxes generally form a lifelong bond with whoever first takes care of them.” 

Livvy quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t think that an animal would prefer someone who gave them more food and spent more time with them?” 

Ty thought. “You have a point,” Ty admitted. He was about to continue and then Livvy’s eyes landed on some point behind Ty. 

“Hi, Kit,” Livvy said. Ty spun, heart thudding. (Or at least he thought it was his heart; an erratic beat ratcheting his breathing faster. Ty wondered why.) 

They talked, Ty informing Kit of the work he’d been doing, with a sense of pride, and then Livvy and Kit began laughing together, and Ty thought of when he’d seen Kit kissing Livvy, his fingers cupping her cheekbones and tangling in her hair, shoulders bent towards her. 

Kit and Livvy- they made _sense_ , in a way that bothered Ty. He had long ago accepted that Kit would always prefer Livvy, but it _bothered_ Ty, he wanted to be the one that Kit was laughing with. 

An unpleasant sensation twisted his stomach, and he interrupted them. Before long, Kit had agreed to come with them to Alicante. 

Ty reached for Kit’s hand- aware of every minute change in Kit’s body language, he didn’t want to force something on Kit - and Kit went still. Was it bothering him? (Kit’s hand in Ty’s, incidentally, quieted the soft noises in Ty’s head, made it soft and silent and sweet, it felt _right_. Ty liked Faerie because of how isolated they were, how quiet everything was, but it was never _really_ quiet, except when he was with Kit.) 

Ty didn’t get a chance to think about it further, because they were moving, sucked into a vortex of Livvy’s creation. 

They stumbled onto cobblestones, and Kit swayed, almost falling to the ground. Ty felt his heartbeat spike, and he instinctively reached towards Kit faster than he’d thought possible, yanking Kit up. Kit turned towards him, smiling. The look in his eyes, the blueness of them, like a wide childhood sky, like innocence so pure it was painful. 

Ty couldn’t help but smile back, what else could he do? He wanted to make Kit smile again. He wanted- but he needed to _focus_ , and Kit made that both easier and more difficult. 

Kit turned, away from Ty, and Ty dropped his eyes hastily, wondering if he’d done something wrong. Was there a limit to how long you smiled at someone? Desperately, he tried to remember if Livvy or Julian or Emma had mentioned anything like that. 

Ty decided to ask Livvy later. Livvy and Kit were talking again, and Ty listened. Despite the odd, resentful, sensation he felt when he thought of Livvy and Kit together, their happiness made him happy, too. 

And Ty _understood_ the joke, something that rarely happened with anyone else besides family, besides Livvy. He made Kit laugh (Kit’s laugh was soft, but all-encompassing, something that seized his entire body and further, spread to his surroundings), so hard he had to lean against the wall. 

Ty couldn’t help laughing too, happiness flooding through him. 

Livvy’s eyes went wide, and Ty knew something was wrong. There was a sound, and then Zara and Manuel came out, documents in their hands. 

Ty looked around frantically, although analytically he knew it was impossible to do anything. There was no time. He shuffled through possibilities- maybe they could overpower Zara and Manuel? Erase their memories through head injuries? 

But Zara and Manuel didn’t _see_ them, didn’t even notice them, and Ty’s head spun. How was that possible? 

It occurred to him quickly- Kit. Kit had said that he was half “elite faerie royalty”, and the phouka had confirmed it, maybe his magic had had protected them. 

Kit didn’t look well, his face was grayish. Slowly, he slid down the wall, eyes focused on nothing at all. 

Panic ripped through Ty, fear lurking pulpy and jagged at the edges of his vision, but he knew he had to have a clear mind. He couldn’t let the bad things come crowding in, let the noises and fear overcome him, or Kit might die, Kit might die and he’d already lost Livvy once and barely gotten her back. 

Ty bent, and Kit’s eyes focused on him- that was good, he could focus. Kit reached a finger. 

His finger grazed the splay of Ty’s collarbone, the extraordinarily sensitive skin there, and Ty sucked in a breath. It felt like liquid fire, like Kit’s finger had ignited Ty’s gasoline-filled veins in a blaze that would smolder for hours, days, years, leaving char and ash in its wake, but oh-so-much beauty. 

Kit tilted his head, eyes distant, his finger tracing reverent paths on the hollow of Ty’s throat- it felt like his hands were holy, sanctifying Ty’s skin, breathing life and fire and truth where there had been none. _Hallowed be thy name_ , Ty thought, stunned as Kit leaned forward, his eyes like fragments of broken skies, like shattered, paint-stained, shards of glass. 

Livvy murmured something, and Kit pulled away, cheeks flushing. _I wonder if you know how lovely you are_ , Ty thought, and, brow furrowing, pushed that thought away. 

He tried to Mark Kit, but the Energy runes sank sluggishly into his skin, making no visible difference. What if’s crowded Ty’s mind, stabbing at the delicate exquisite cage of his skull to the intricate, intrinsic, weight, within, and he couldn’t breathe for fear that Kit would never again. 

He was hardly aware of what happened after that, only that Kit’s hand was in his and they were gone in a swirl of wind and smoke and Livvy. 

They tumbled like showers of sparks onto the cool wetness of the grass, and Kit breathed deep, color returning to his face. “Ty. _Ty_.” Kit was gasping, as he’d done one night when they’d traveled by Portal, and Ty felt a surge of sickening nostalgia. 

Really, Kit was making it quite difficult to focus. “Yes?” Ty asked, and when Kit rolled over, pushing his face into the soft sweet grass, Ty hesitated. Did Kit need something, or was it like the other night, where he’d been saying Ty’s name for fear that Ty had gotten lost in the Portal? 

Whatever the case, Ty didn’t get the chance to ponder, as Kit turned to him, eyes bright and shamed. “I’m- I feel better now.” Kit looked down, then at Ty again. 

He usually hated meeting people’s eyes, but with Kit it wasn’t meeting his eyes, it was looking _at_ his eyes, admiring the shockingly vivid color. Kit began apologizing, quite irrationally, and Ty explained why he didn’t need to. 

Kit really should think things through before he said things. Ty began thinking, parsing the gentle equation of looks and weighted glances, of lies and love and venomous words. Trying to work things out. What was Kit thinking, what did he think about Ty, and why did Ty care _so_ much? 

“Do you want to try something? With my magic?” Kit asked, interrupting Ty from the snare of his thoughts, and Ty brightened. Kit’s magic, faerie magic, but far more powerful than Mark’s, even if the amount of faerie blood in his line was diluted. 

That invisibility spell… Ty jotted a note to research those later. 

“Okay, you can start now,” Ty told him. Kit smiled, and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Ty watched the bob of his throat, watched as droplets of fire burst from his hands, rolled down his body. 

Kit was enjoying Ty’s surprise, Ty knew, and then Kit rose into the air, and Ty forgot about the confusing mess between the two of them, forgot everything but the wonder of Kit. 

There was a rumble from the north, and then wind roared, a lion at Kit’s beck and call, infinitely powerful and infinitely beautiful. It tore at Kit’s golden hair, until Kit looked like a lion himself, scratched paws at Kit’s clothing, as if it, too, wanted to touch. 

Ty inhaled, sharply. 

Kit let the wind go free, and then he called to him fire. 

Fire, droves of it, licked at Kit, passion in the form of heat. Ty was still, immobile, unable to do anything but watch as Kit shuddered, smothering it with a brief clipped word. 

Kit raised a hand, power glimmering behind his irises, turning them violet, and then bright droplets of burring light burst into being, swarming and curling around his wrists. _Fireflies_ , Ty thought, running through the facts he’d memorized about them. But how was that possible- had Kit created life, or summoned it? Ty scribbled that down. 

Livvy was laughing delightedly, and the bright sound of it caught Kit’s attention. His eyes were blue again, and Ty knew what he was going to do. 

Kit flew to Livvy, flourishing a hand, and Ty watched, something strange curling low in the pit of his belly as Kit took Livvy in his arms. 

_Stop it,_ Ty told himself, forcing the strange prickly feelings away, forcing the noises and lights away, _stop_. 

Ty let the simple happiness of watching two people he cared about enjoy themselves overwhelm him, let his fingers do the talking (making observations in his notes), let a smile rise to his mouth. 

Kit and Livvy slowed to a stop, Livvy dipping Kit with a glint in her eyes, and then Kit glanced down, at Ty. 

With Kit at such a height, Ty felt pinned to the ground by the blue of Kit’s eyes, pierced like a butterfly. He was about to avert his gaze when Kit held a hand to him, and said “Ty? May I have this dance?” 

Ty opened his mouth, closed it. He wanted to, wanted to more than anything he’d ever wanted, but was it right? Something was bothering him about the idea of dancing with Kit right after he’d danced with Livvy, but the desire was overwhelming, and Ty filed the strange sensation with the other strange feelings he’d been experiencing in Kit’s presence, to be explored later on. 

And he nodded, stripping his sweatshirt to protect his notebook. Kit, a strange smile on his lips (his lips, Ty had never wanted to look at a mouth more, soft and pursed and _I wonder if you know how lovely you are_ ), sent a curl of rose-gold towards Ty. 

Ty let it curl around his shoulders, let the strange warmth settle around him. It was a conductor, almost, amplifying the strange heat he felt in Kit’s presence, but then again, it _was_ Kit, or Kit’s magic, at least. And then Kit pulled him up, the magic straining, pulled Ty up into the _sky_. 

He’d never felt anything like it. Never imagined he would- he was a problem solver, an observer, an investigator, a Sherlock, not a Houdini, not capable of magic beyond ordinary Shadowhunters. 

And yet. 

Here he was, twenty feet in the sky, and there Kit was, his blue eyes pleading and filled with something Ty couldn’t process- he could never _read_ people as easily as Livvy could, and it frustrated him sometimes. Livvy would have known what Kit was feeling, he knew. He didn’t. 

Kit offered his hand, Ty took it, and they slid together like puzzle pieces, assimilating themselves in the strange statue-like stillness that came before a dance. 

Ty let his hands span Kit’s waist ( _I wonder if you know how lovely you are, I wonder if you know, I wonder_ ), the warmth of Kit’s skin warming his hands, and watched, bemused, as Kit sighed softly, lashes fluttering. 

“Shall we?” Kit asked shakily, and Ty nodded yes. 

What proceeded was startling, even to Ty, who prided himself on evaluating all outcomes. 

Kit was poetry in his hands, they moved together as easily as breathing, as gracefully as fish darting though dappled cold bright brook-waters, as freighted with as many expectations and lies and unspoken things as history was. 

Ty’d never felt anything like it, never dreamed that someday he would dance with a boy as beautiful as summer in the rapidly lightening night sky, with the night air for a dance floor and the soft shaky ebbing of the other boy’s breathing for music. 

They swooped though the air, one thought sending them arcing through the clouds, another dropping them to skim the earth, and Ty bit his lip, hesitantly stretching his awareness of Kit’s magic. 

He wasn’t sure if he could, or if he _should_ (maybe Kit wouldn’t want him to touch his magic) but he did anyway, reaching for Kit’s magic. 

It felt _alive_ , beautiful, even, in his hands, like a lit match, and then Kit gasped, eyes rolling into the back of his head. Ty slowed, worried, but Kit’s eyes flew open, giving him permission with a steady look, and Ty played with it, reveling in the shocking, insane, feeling, of magic, of being able to control them. 

He spun them, and they fit together perfectly, so perfectly that Ty almost forgot about Livvy and how Kit had kissed her once, by a beach studded with salt and seashells, hands cupping her face with such tenderness. 

Ty hated it, hated the image with a passion that confused him, and he pushed them higher into the sky, wanting desperately to forget it. He regretted it almost immediately; the thinness of the air burnt his lungs, but Kit called richer air to the surface and Ty could breathe again. 

There was a strange, caught, feeling, in Ty’s heart, he needed focus and pressure and quietness, it was _too much_ , and Kit, seeming to know exactly what he needed, held him tighter, the violence of his heat, his touch, so welcome that Ty almost collapsed, and he needed more. 

Ty pressed Kit closer, and Kit gasped, his hips meeting Ty’s with a shock of sweetness. Kit whispered Ty’s name, and Ty felt an instant of blind terror, that Kit would push him away and tell him he was wrong, disgusting, like so many people had- for the noises in his head, the way some people didn’t make _sense_ to him, the way he needed touch and pressure sometimes, but Kit didn’t. He looked at Ty steadily, letting him know it was alright. 

Exhilaration, brightness, overwhelmed Ty, they were moving faster now, each holding magic and whipping it through the air. They flew past the cliffs, and hovered over the water- a strange stillness kept, held carefully between them like some delicate, unspeakably precious, thing. 

It was immense, the magic, the wind on his face, rushing and blocking out sense and reason, but Ty welcomed it. It wasn’t like the noises and lights in his head, it was more like the calming sensation of Kit holding him, it drowned out the other things. 

He wanted more, and although Ty leaned even closer to Kit, until he could feel Kit’s breath winging softly across his cheekbones (the sensation was soft, fluttering), until he could pick out every individual freckle. Kit’s eyes were blown wide, a soft sound escaping ( _I wonder if you know how lovely you are, you must know, you must_ ). 

The feel of Kit pressed against him, the lovely way his golden curls framed his cheekbones, the blue of his eyes- Ty liked it all- loved it, loved the sensation of it. 

“Ty,” Kit rasped, and Ty focused on him, “Did you- did you miss me?” 

_Did you miss me_? Ty was surprised- the fact that Kit wanted to know meant that he cared, even a little. (Or did it? He didn’t know entirely, maybe there was something he was missing; he was never sure when it came to other people, and Kit made him both sure and unsure, certain and horribly uncertain.) 

Ty smiled, involuntarily. Kit cared, Kit _cared_. 

“Of course I missed you, Kit.” Ty told him. It was true, achingly, desperately so, and he held his breath, unsure of what Kit would say. 

Kit’s eyes clouded, and he pulled away slightly. Ty stared at him- what had Ty done wrong, was there something he didn’t know, had he misstepped? But Kit had asked… was Ty not supposed to answer? Ty thought to Kit’s tone, as Livvy had taught him to do, but he didn’t know what the roughness in Kit’s throat _meant_ \- should he? 

“We should… we should get back.” Kit said quietly. He looked downcast, and Ty reached for his hand, wanting to comfort whatever Kit was sad about, blind to everything and anything but the gloom in Kit’s eyes. 

“That was wonderful,” Ty said, trying to cheer Kit up. “You have more power than I expected…” Ty added. Kit smiled weakly, his mind clearly elsewhere, and Ty subsided, confused. He would talk to Livvy later, maybe she would understand. 

They touched down on the cliff, and Livvy was chattering excitedly. 

Livvy bid them farewell, and it was just the two of them, Kit’s eyes blue and guarded. 

_I wonder if you know how lovely you are,_ Ty thought, and almost spoke, but Kit turned away, walking back to the tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ty's perspective isn't something we're going to do often- this is just a little something *extra*... hope you enjoy. I find it slightly difficult to tell and grasp Ty's emotions about Kit, so this was helpful for me in understanding the dynamic, the reasons behind Ty's every action, and the way Ty perceives what Kit does.
> 
> ALSO! I have a few questions, for you guys to answer in the comments.
> 
> #1: Do you think I should keep this T-rated, or do some mild smuttiness? (Not a lot, definitely won't be the central focus, but just a few paragraphs, maybe).... 
> 
> #2: How do you guys feel about my portrayal of Ty's character? Anything I could improve on? Cassie Clare did this very well, and I, not being autistic myself or that informed, have tried my hardest to respectfully show Ty's struggles with how differently he's wired than the rest of the world, merged with Ty's unique personality- in a sense, not to limit him to simply an autistic person, but to fully showcase the brilliant person he is <3 
> 
> #3: Should I do short chapter postings every few days, or a long chapter every week?
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! <3


	10. Leaving Sparks Trailing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically, we find out the ~mysterious thing~ which I'm sure everybody's already guessed. I know I'm moving a tad too fast, plot-wise, but we are here for kitty, not cassie, if ya know what I mean.
> 
> (p.s. Kit has a tattoo because of course Kit has a tattoo. everyone ever and their mothers has headcanoned that Kit gets a tattoo, because that, ladies and gents and all genders in between, is christopher herondale for you. and, like pretty much every herondale, like, ever. and every shadowhunter too, technically- do Marks count as tattoos? *shrugs* whatevs!)

Kit grabbed his bag, slipping to the tent he and Anush shared. He stripped quickly, yanking off his sweats and old, raggedy, T-shirt in favor of black gear.

He purposely didn’t look at the black tattoo on the left pane of his chest, near his heart (but not _on_ it, he wasn’t that much of a sap). 

He’d gotten it on his seventeenth birthday, stealing out to the town tattoo parlor and stumbling out his request, the slip of paper with the words scrawled on them clutched in his shaking hand. The tattoo artist, a petite woman whose skin was more ink than not, had bent to read it, mouth shaping the words; _glass, twin, apple, whisper, stars, crystal, shadow, lilt._

_I know it’s weird_ , Kit had said nervously, _But I- it’s important to me._

The tattoo artist- her name was Marie - had nodded, eyes sad. She’d known, hadn’t she, that there was something he wasn’t saying- but then again, she was a stranger. He had no obligation to say anything. 

Her quick pencil, sketching out a brief design, and Kit had felt breathless. _This your first tattoo?_ Marie’d asked, brusquely, and then, catching sight of his Marks, of the Voyance rune on his right hand, she’d laughed. _Silly me_. 

Kit couldn’t help it- he glanced down, a finger tracing the design. The eight words, in an elegant, furling, script, curled in the shape of a circle. 

Circles, like the one that Ty had carved into the wet earth when he had brought his sister back from the dead. 

Kit felt cold all over; he snatched his hand away, yanking his shirt on. Stupid, stupid. 

It had been stupid to get the tattoo in the first place, Kit reflected, but he couldn’t help it then- skin buzzing all over, lips swollen from Mr. Brockner’s grandson, he’d snuck away, guilt flaming in him- he’d imagined it was Ty kissing him, Ty tangling fingers in Kit’s hair, Ty arching up against him, Ty making those soft, soft sounds - knowing that the only thing that would calm him was pain and Ty. 

The tattoo parlor had provided both, if only for a night. 

It was his fault they’d pulled away, he knew. Yes, Ty had done a bad thing, but what had he, Kit, done? _You were helping me, you weren’t stopping me! We were going to raise Livvy together! I thought- I thought you missed Livvy too, I thought you wanted Livvy back, too._

Yeah, if anyone was to blame, it was Kit. 

Wearily, Kit pulled on his pants, scrawling a few Wakefulness runes on his bicep. 

* * *

“So, how are we doing this?” Kit asked through a mouthful of Jaffa Cake, ignoring Dru’s baleful glare. 

He couldn’t help it that he was the only one who thought of bringing junk food, and if said junk food was delicious and British. 

“What do you mean by that?” Ty asked tentatively. He was fiddling with an old, empty, lighter, flicking it on and off. 

Kit swallowed the rest of the pasty, incinerating the wrapper in a burst of flame. Anush flinched, and Kit grinned at him toothily. 

“Like, how are we going to figure this out? We have two Sensors, right? So we’re just going to wander around until we find the weird beep-y place?” 

Dru pointed at him. “That is an excellent idea.” 

“You know that kissing up isn’t going to make me give you any of my Jaffa Cakes, right?” Kit asked, and Dru stuck her tongue out at him. 

Ty intervened, saying: “We’ll do this in groups of two, and when one of us find something, we’ll all gather.” 

“I’m with Ty.” Kit said immediately, and Dru smirked at him. Kit stuck _his_ tongue out at her, and she threw a wood chip at him. 

“How will we let each other know?” Anush asked, brows furrowing, and Kit, concentrating, conjured a wisp of power from his finger, flicking it over to Dru. 

“Tell that if you find anything. It’ll come over to me.” Kit told her. Anush looked impressed, and Kit winked. 

Dru let out a sigh, getting to her feet. The rest of them- meaning Dru, Ty, and Anush, Kit did offer Ty some Jaffa Cakes but he declined - were stuck to eating porridge, which Emma had packed for them. 

Dru looked annoyingly chipper for the morning, her hair braided neatly and her eyes bright. “Well, we’d better get to it.” 

* * *

__  
“This isn’t working.” Ty said suddenly. They’d been walking in the opposite direction as Dru and Anush for about an hour, and the Sensor had been perfectly normal.

Kit squinted. “We can take a break if you-” 

“I don’t need to take a break.” Ty interrupted, calmly. “I’m just saying, logistically, there are much better ways to do this. Going in two separate directions isn’t helpful- we’re covering east and west, but what about north, south, northeast, southeast, northwest, and southwest?” 

“You do have a point.” Kit admitted. He snuck a glance at Ty. Ty, in spite of the heat, seemed remarkably unrumpled, with only a faint shine of sweat on his brow. 

“What should we do instead?” Kit asked. Ty bit his lip, and Kit looked down, hastily. He didn’t need any inappropriate thoughts flooding his mind. 

“You could scan the area with your magic, Kit.” Ty suggested. Kit frowned, thoughtfully. “I’m not sure I can do that. I mean, it’s not like a pair of eyes.” 

Ty slipped his little black notebook from his knapsack, eyes flitting across the pages. “From what I surmised- last night - you have almost full elemental control- pyrokinesis, aerokinesis, and I’m pretty sure also geokinesis and hydrokinesis. Additionally, you seem to have a sort of telekinesis- you were able to move me up, with your power. You can either create or summon life- I saw it with the fireflies. Your control and dexterity is enough that you can easily manage a full adult male. What makes you think you can’t do it?” 

Kit jolted- he’d been too busy listening to the soothing sound of Ty’s voice. “Oh- um, I could try, but it might not work.” 

Ty smiled at him. “Fourth step of the scientific method- testing your hypothesis.” 

When Ty was smiling at him like that, eyes luminous and lovely, mouth spread wide, it was impossible not to smile back, so Kit did. 

“Aren’t we skipping a lot of steps, then?” Kit asked. 

Ty thought. “Not really. We’ve kind of already asked a question- if you could do it - and we did background research last night. I’ve constructed a hypothesis. Testing is next.” 

_We did background research last night._

Kit swallowed. Was that what it was, to Ty? 

_It was sweetness, it was touch, the ecstatic violence of dance merging with the primal light of magic, fire. Ty’s hands, balanced on Kit’s hips, pressed him closer, and Kit gasped, instinct arching his hips into Ty’s._

Research. 

Kit nodded. He felt sick. 

“Kit? Are you alright?” Ty was watching him, eyes concerned. Kit swallowed, jolting himself back into reality. “I- yeah. So, what I’m looking for is just something that… sticks out?” 

Ty nodded. “Something different. Emma said the Sensor went crazy, but it didn’t exactly indicate a demonic presence- so it would be something that doesn’t belong there. Pay special attention to the _energy_ of things.” 

“Energy. Right.” Kit said weakly, and closed his eyes. It was harder than before- the word _research_ kept pinging in his mind, over and over - but he managed it, summoning power from the well deep inside of him. 

Kit sculpted his power into a sheet, a wall, and sent it flurrying out. _Something that doesn’t belong_ Kit thought, and knit his brow, biting his lip. 

The energy of Faerie was wild, thorny. Brambles strung with sweet berries, blackbirds and briars. Ecstatic, primal. 

His magic went wide, searching, encountering. Meadows of bobbing globeflowers, vales and valleys, lakes filled with the starlight and rivers with the clearest, coldest water you’d ever taste. 

And at the edge of a far, far, away, cliff, something different. Sickly, as if it wasn’t supposed to grow there. Something that wasn’t fey but wasn’t demonic. Not angelic, either- not anything that Kit could recognize, but it felt _wrong_ \- 

With a gasp, Kit opened his eyes. “I found it.” 

Ty whirled. He’d been examining something on the ground, and as he got up, Kit noticed he was beaming. “I was right; it did work.” 

Kit gave him a strained smile. _Research_. 

“It’s kind of far away. North.” Kit told him. Ty frowned curiously. “We should probably-” Kit began, but broke off. Ty’s eyes were on him, so _gray_ , and suddenly Kit could not speak. 

When it was clear Kit wasn’t going to say anything, Ty spoke. “We should go check it out ourselves, before Dru and Anush.” 

Kit blinked. It wasn’t exactly the smartest idea, but the idea of more hours- alone - with Ty… 

“Yes. I mean, yeah.” His words came out in a stumbling rush, and Ty nodded, satisfied. 

“If it’s far away, we have to be fast. We need runes.” Ty noted. Kit nodded. “Good idea.” 

Ty pulled his stele from his pocket, reaching for Kit’s hand. Kit jolted. “What are you doing?” Kit asked, nervously. 

Ty shrank away, eyes large. “I- I was going to put a Speed rune on you?” The words came out questioning. 

Kit felt a sick wash of guilt. “Oh, sorry. Of course.” Kit extended his hand to Ty, and Ty took it, inscribing a Speed rune on Kit’s forearm. Ty’s careful fingers on Kit’s skin- it _burned_ , and Ty looked up, eyes narrowing. 

Kit opened his mouth- had Ty sensed it? - but Ty spoke. “Kit, did you just set a bush on fire?” 

Kit whirled. A nearby blackberry bush was burning, the flames licking it alive. “Shit.” Kit said softly, and extinguished it with a gush of water. 

“You curse more than you used to.” Ty observed, and Kit flushed. “Side effect of being a moody teenager.” 

Ty raised a brow. “Maybe we should start a swear jar.” 

“We don’t have a jar.” Kit pointed out. “A hypothetical swear jar. I’ll keep count. A dollar every time you curse.” Ty said, eyes sparkling. 

“Is ‘damn’ a curse word?” Ty shook his head. Kit considered. “Yeah, okay. I’m sure Tessa would be thrilled if it worked.” 

“I’m sure she would.” Ty said with an serious expression, and then they set off. 

* * *

As it turned out, the landscape was fairly easy to manipulate, and they were able to reach _it_ , whatever _it_ was by the hour.

The Sensor began clicking, making rapid clicking noises and Kit fumbled it out of his pocket, staring at it curiously. “Do you think it might explode?” Kit asked absentmindedly, and Ty turned, peering over Kit’s shoulder (the smell of him, sage and salt and books and something soft and sleepy, _oh_ ). 

“It might. Emma didn’t say anything about explosion, but- oh.” The Sensor began shaking, as if it might come apart. 

“Should I incinerate it?” Kit squinted at it, and Ty nodded. “Good idea, actually.” 

Kit kept the smile off his lips and sent a blast of fire at the Sensor, which promptly disintegrated. 

Ty gazed thoughtfully forward. They stood in front of a lot of nothing. Ty didn’t say anything, apparently considering something. “It’s glamoured.” Kit said eventually, and Ty nodded; he knew. 

“Should we-” Kit began, but then Ty whirled, eyes bright. “I’ve got it- it’s from Thule.” 

Kit fell silent. Ty faltered. “You know- Thule. The dimension, the other world that Emma and Julian and everyone went into? Where Clary died, and Jace was evil.” 

“Yeah, I remember.” Kit said shortly. “What- oh. You mean, because it doesn’t belong, and it’s not something they’ve seen before in Faerie, and- oh, that actually makes sense.” 

Ty looked puzzled. “I know it does.” 

Kit closed his eyes, felt the glamour tugging at the edges of his consciousness, and tugged it off, whisking it off like a magician twitching a violet-colored sheet from a cage, unveiling magic. 

Ty drew a breath and Kit opened his eyes. Beneath the glamour was a house made of glass. 

Kit sucked in a breath and cast a quick concealment charm over the both of them, heart in his throat. 

“Thanks.” Ty whispered, and pulled his stele out, carving a quick Soundless rune. He looked up, blinking at Kit. “Do you want me to do you?” 

Kit choked. “ _What_?” Ty looked confused, his winged brows wrinkling. “Do you want me to Mark you with a Soundless rune?” 

Kit flushed. “Ah, yes. Thanks.” 

Ty, looking slightly confused, nodded, and Marked Kit quickly, stele skating over skin and leaving sparks trailing. 

Ty slipped his stele in his pocket and they crept behind the glass house. It was beautiful, silvery and elegant, and yet somehow not transparent- the multiple layers of glass kept it from being clear. 

Ty laid a soft hand on the knob of the back door, twisted it. It didn’t give, and Ty turned, eyes resting on Kit. “Do you have your lockpicks?” Ty asked, and Kit nodded, fumbling the picks out of his pocket. 

It was easy, natural, to be with Ty. Kit manipulated the lock, tenderly teasing apart metal until the door clicked open. Ty made a soft noise of approval. 

They crept inside the house, the glamour on them cloaking them from any curious eyes. 

It- it was an actual _house_ , the couch covered by a soft blanket, the kitchen sleek and modern, a bowl of plump fruit sitting on the marble countertop, the smell of olive oil and salt and citrusy zest hanging in the air. 

“Who-” Kit whispered, but Ty shook his head, bringing a finger to his lips. 

_Who do you think lives here?_ Kit mouthed, and Ty bit his lip. (Something about the idea of Ty reading his lips, watching Kit’s mouth, made Kit feel warm and fluttery inside, and then disgusted at himself). 

Ty glanced left and right, then drew close to Kit, whispering: “We should go upstairs, there has to be some clue to their identities somewhere.” 

Kit nodded, and then there was the sound of footsteps behind them, and Ty whirled, a blade suddenly gleaming silver in his hand, eyes widening in shock. 

Slowly, Kit turned- and stifled a gasp. 

It was _Jace_ , but not Jace- his shoulders were slightly broader, his skin more scarred, his golden eyes flat and his mouth tight. How- but of course, Ty had been right. Thule Jace. 

This Jace stretched, cracking his neck in short bursts of energy, and then called: “Ash!” 

A scatter of footsteps sounded, and then a boy, about their age, darted down. His eyes were green, his hair soft and gold, his face elegant and arched and unmistakable fey. 

There was a paper in his hand, and Ash quickly slipped it into his pocket, as if he didn’t want Jace to see it. Jace was saying something, saying: “The Chen girl’s proved helpful.” 

Ash was biting his lip, looking uncertain. “Didn’t she want her vampire as payment?” 

The Chen girl. Lily. Lily Chen. Ty’s eyes were wide and very, very, bright, logic and cleverness whirring behind them, rapidly making conclusions, infinitely faster than Kit. 

Jace shrugged. “She doesn’t know that we don’t know how to get to Thule.” His eyes were softer now, looking at Ash- they were still more lifeless than Kit could ever remember Jace’s eyes being, but Ash seemed… important to him. 

Ty withdrew his stele from his pocket, slipping a piece of paper from his pocket. They were standing directly in the middle of the room, right between Jace and Ash, and they had their Soundless runes but those didn’t make it impossible to make noise. Kit wanted to throw a net of magic over their sound, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think that the clearly fey boy, Ash, wouldn’t sense it. 

Ty was scrawling something onto the paper, scribbling something as quietly as he could. _Scritch. Scritch._ They heard it, didn’t they, Jace’s head tilting in their directions, eyes going predatory and still. “Ash-” Jace began. 

Ty lit it, scrawling the rune for fire on the bottom edge, and the note burnt. The smell of it, charcoal and woodsmoke, not to mention the crackle of flame, filled the air. Casually, Jace yanked a blade from his pocket, and threw it directly at Ty. 

_Ty_. The boy who had held a knife to Kit’s throat the second they’d met, the boy who’d slept in front of his door for days, to make sure he wouldn’t run away, the boy he’d held on a roof, when the air was cold and he was the only warm thing in a city of ice and shadows, the boy who didn’t love him and maybe never would but was perfect and good and kind and lovely and beautiful. _Beautiful_. 

Kit moved before he could think, threw his body in front of Ty’s, anything to keep the knife from entering Ty’s body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been feeling so ~uninspired~ these days, so if I don't post for a few days/a week, it's probably because of that... I won't abandon this fic, of course, but I need to get back into the kitty-spiration stage. I will! I swear! Anyway, hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> Also, the whole "Do you want me to do you?" bit is quite honestly the kitty-est thing I have ever written and I'm insanely, irrationally, proud of it.
> 
> Also also _also_ , can't you just imagine Kit and Ty kissing somewhere, like, say, against a wall, a brick wall, maybe, let's say in Alicante if they ever go back (*wink wink*)and then they see these handprints that are burned into the wall and then Ty gets super interested in the handprints and wants to spend the whole day figuring out where they came from? With the hashtag #JaceYouCockBlockerYou? (And this only makes sense if you remember every single detail of TMI and to be honest I think that came from CoHF but I'm not too sure myself.) 
> 
> Anyway the whole point of that is can't you imagine Kit and Ty kissing and please Cassie I beg of you Chain of Gold is beautiful and perfect and amazing and I love it but we need The Wicked Powers we need Kitty please please please I will shower you in gold leaf and rose petals. Please, I can't wait until 2022, I will be old and gray.
> 
> Or grey. Which brings me to my next point: If Tessa Gray lived in England for her entire life after moving, why not start spelling her name Grey instead? to fit in? Because the thing is I've just noticed this detail and frankly, it bothers me. Do you think she'll ever get away with writing her maiden name on forms without bloody British people being like hahahaha your surname is incorrectly spelled? 
> 
> And anyway this is the longest Note I have ever written at the end and I have no clue why and frankly, I'm just making this up as I go along. I'm being odd and pedantic and pretentious and negligent in my comma usage.
> 
> (p.s. please no one hold me to this because as i believe i've said before i don't really have a set-in-stone plot outline for this, but i do believe we'll have some smut in chapter 15? And i know this is kind of inappropriate so feel free, absolutely bloody free, american-level free, to not answer this, but who do you think will top/bottom? I'm leaning towards kit bottoming, what about you? )
> 
> (p.p.s. stay safe i love you.)


	11. We Are The Same, You And I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blood! Blood! Blood! Andddd death- kidding, no death. (I'm not that cruel.)
> 
> we pick up where we left off, and Kit and Ash meet. MEMORIES. traumatic memory relivings, weird magic bonding shenanigans... honestly, dude, I don't even know. this chapter kind of did what it wanted.

It happened very quickly, so quickly. The knife, sliding towards him. The air was thick like honey, the smell of something sweet and bright in the air, Ty’s face stricken.

Ty’s face- wide gray eyes, so, so gray. Moonlight and stone and sage and silver. Salt and storms. _If I die, Ty’s face will be the last thing I see_ , Kit thought. 

He was still smiling when the knife dove into his skin, steel breaking past his gear, past the skin and muscle, grazing bone. 

The pain was immense, staggering. He’d been knifed before, been burned by demon venom and once, memorably, had his entire hand skinned, but he hasn’t felt this before. “Oh,” Kit breathed faintly, and then the glamour he’d thrown to protect them was shattering, the sticky-sweet web of magic dissolving, falling to wasted shroud-shreds on the hardwood floor, gleaming and citrusy. 

Kit wanted to put it up again, wanted to gather his strength and run with Ty, far away from this strange, knife-eyed, Jace and the boy with green, green, eyes- _Clary’s eyes_ , Kit thought, suddenly - but he couldn’t. 

“Look at that, Ash.” Jace was saying softly. “Little Shadowhunters, meddling where they shouldn’t.” Kit tried to say something defiant- snark was, after all, his specialty - but he couldn’t move. Ty was kneeling on top of him, straddling his hips, face gone blank and harsh with focus, scrawling steady runes on Kit’s collarbone. 

Kit was going to die. He realized it, knew it, accepted it, but Ty was trying _so hard_ to keep him alive, and Kit wanted to stay. 

_I am a prince of Faerie_ , Kit thought distantly, through the pain, the delirium. 

Slowly, Kit cast his gaze up, and caught the eyes of the boy who looked a lot like him- the same blend of fey and Shadowhunter, bright hair and brighter eyes, the Marks and scars of a Shadowhunter coupled with elegantly elongated features, sharp and fey. 

The boy was looking at him, too, his eyes searing into Kit’s with narrowed intensity. Kit gasped. _Heal me_. The words were coming easily to his mind now, tinged with surety and pride. 

_I am a prince of Faerie, and when I speak, the land listens._ Kit didn’t know where the words were coming from, but he focused on them anyway. 

_I said, heal me._

Kit could feel a rush of warmth, something flowing into him, from the earth and the air and the blood trickling from the knife, shooting into the stele held in Ty’s steady hand, jolting it into motion. Ty’s eyes were very bright, and he was murmuring something under his breath, carving Marks into Kit’s skin with feverish speed. It sounded like Latin. 

_Nomine Augustini, sana quod est homo. Ventus et ignis vivifiant eum. Et terra magique restituer ei._

“Ty,” Kit gasped out, and Ty shushed him softly, spreading the fingers of his unoccupied hand across Kit’s lips. Kit fell silent- he didn’t know what he was going to say, anyway. _I love you, Ty. I love you_. 

The tide of old shame rose to claim him, washing the backs of his eyelids with darkness. 

* * *

“Lily Chen sent us.” Ty’s voice, calm and steady, but Kit- and, he suspected, only Kit - could hear the nervous energy beneath it, could sense his fluttering hands, most likely balled up in his pockets.

“Little liar. I saw her only yesterday- tell me, little warrior of the Clave, why would she send you here?” 

It was cold, the floor hard and unyielding under Kit’s back. Where _was_ he? Kit fought to wrench his eyelids open, but they were too heavy. 

“She had concerns about your ability to retrieve Raphael Santiago.” Ty spoke evenly, and Kit felt a flush of pride, _my Ty_. Except Ty wasn’t his, not really- not even close, actually. 

“She sent us here requesting some sort of concrete verification.” Ty continued. 

A snort. “And how, pray tell, did you find us? Lily Chen is not, to the best of my knowledge, aware of our location.” 

“Lily Chen employed us, knowing full well we’d be able to find you. There have been reports of some sort of confusing energy- you haven’t been as discreet as you think.” Mixing truth with untruth; where had Ty learned to lie so well? He didn’t like lying, never had. 

Maybe the Scholomance taught classes on it, Kit thought grumpily, and opened his eyes. 

He was lying in a small room, floored with hardwood, flooded with light. Ty was- Ty was _chained_ , Kit saw with a start, arms bound behind his back, sitting with his back to Kit. The other-Jace was leaning against the door frame, amusement clear in every line of his face. The other boy was partially obscured behind him, pale hair curling around the sharp lines of his face, the green of his eyes. 

Other-Jace laughed. “You expect me to believe that? I recognize you- you’re Livia Blackthorn’s twin, aren’t you?” 

Kit could see the muscles of Ty’s back stiffening, could see his hands shaking in his pockets. Ty didn’t say anything- he _couldn’t_ say anything - , and Kit wanted to help him. 

Kit cleared his throat, coughing loudly, and Ty spun, relief sliding up over the pain in his eyes. Jace’s eyes flicked to him. 

“Livvy is dead,” Kit stated, avoiding Ty’s eyes (he didn’t want to see the hurt in them). “Things are different in this world- Ty and I are technically under the Clave, yes, but things here are pretty easy, nothing much to do.” Kit smirked. “What the Clave doesn’t know won’t hurt them, after all. It’s none of their business if we offer our services.” 

Other-Jace strode forward, bypassing Ty. The other boy- Ash, Kit remembered at last, this Jace had called him Ash - was running a hand through his hair, biting his lip. 

“And who are you?” Other-Jace snarled softly, tilting his head. “I haven’t seen you before- a Shadowhunter yes, but what else?” 

Behind him, Ash’s eyes were wide and green. He was shaking his head, slowly, but he knew that Other-Jace can’t see him- which meant, Kit realized, he was shaking his head at _Kit_. 

Kit shrugged- it sent a sharp jolt of pain up his ribs, but he hid it well. “Kit Carstairs, at your service.” 

There was a brief silence, and then Other-Jace laughed. It was a short, sharp, sound, one that scattered through the room like sparks flying from a lit match. “Emma Carstairs does not have any siblings, and Jem Carstairs has no children.” 

Kit smirked again. “I’m the adopted child of Tessa Gray and Jem Carstairs, O Clever One.” It wasn’t a lie, wasn’t a truth, either. He was Kit Herondale, but he wasn’t about to let him know that. Kit supposed in the other world, he’d never discovered his Shadowhunter ancestry, his father- the thought made him flinch - had never died…. he would never have met Ty. 

Other-Jace snarled, softly. “And your ancestry?” 

Kit shrugged again. “I’m a delicious swirl of Shadowhunter and mundane, with a splash of faerie from some nixie who was particularly fond of my great-grandmother, I think.” It was almost funny, how far from the truth it was- the truth, which was that Kit was directly descended from the Unseelie King and the Queen of Faerie, a lineage which rivaled even King Kieran’s. 

The boy, Ash, strode from behind Jace to his side, his green eyes narrowed. _He knows I’m lying_ , Kit realized with an unpleasant jerk. It must have been the faerie in him, he must have been able to tell that the amount of power Kit held didn’t come from ‘some nixie’. 

Kit cocked his head best he could, from his prone position sprawled on the floor. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of making your acquaintance.” 

Other-Jace made an unpleasant noise, moving as if to shield Ash from their eyes, but the boy shook him off, eyes fixed on Kit. 

“I’m Ash. Ash Morgenstern.” 

Ty made a soft sound of comprehension, his eyes widening. 

“Morgenstern?” Kit repeated. And in the next instant, he realized. “You have Clary’s eyes-” 

Other-Jace let out a low growl. “And how, exactly, do you know Clary?” 

Kit opened his mouth- to say what, he didn’t exactly know - but Ty spoke over him. 

“It was always rumored that Sebastian and the Queen of Faerie had an affair.” Ty stated, eyes bright as they always were when he was solving problems, digging up mysteries. 

Other-Jace stiffened, hands clenching as if to prevent Ash from confirming anything, but Ash was nodding, slowly. This boy was _related_ to him, Kit realized. His mother was Kit’s ancestor. 

“Janus,” Ash said softly, looking down, “I can handle this.” Other Jace- no, _Janus_ \- began shaking his head, but Ash spoke over him, drowning him out. “You were telling me how you wanted to give me more responsibility, teach me to fend for myself- well, here’s your chance. I’ll interrogate them.” 

Janus snarled softly, and, his hands moving too quickly for Kit to follow, tossed a bright, gleaming, dagger to Ash. Ash plucked it out of the air, eyes running over the hilt, the inscription, with an appreciative eye. “Thank you.” 

With that, Janus left, a scarred hand gripping Ash’s shoulder briefly. 

“When you say ‘interrogate’, do you mean-” Kit began, but his voice died. 

Ash had strode forward, bare feet sliding prettily across the floor, eyes sparking; coruscant. 

“Who are you, liar?” Ash asked, and Kit found himself unable to compose an answer. 

Ty saved him, Ty would always save him. “We are exactly who we say we are.” Ty said sharply, eyes flashing. 

“I won’t tell him if you tell me," Ash said impatiently, tossing his white-blonde hair- a gesture so fleetingly arrogant Kit was reminded of Jace, the actual Jace. 

“Why would you do that?” Ty asked, eyes glittering. 

Ash bit his lip, and suddenly he didn’t look like Jace anymore, suddenly he looked like Clary, his large green eyes shimmering. 

“I want to know who you _are_.” Ash spoke softly, but Kit heard. 

More than heard- he understood. He’d almost died, but he felt it- something drew him to Ash, a sort of bond, no matter how thin, no matter how tenuous. 

In an another world, they could have been brothers. 

Kit understood the need to discover who he was, understood the curiosity, because he’d felt the same way, wondering at night _who am I, who am I, who am I_ , and the stars gave him no answers but maybe Kit could. 

“Swear on the Angel.” Kit said quietly, and Ty’s eyes whipped to his, his brow creasing in confusion, but Ash didn’t hesitate. “I swear on the Angel not to breathe a word of this to Janus.” 

Kit nodded. “I’m a direct descendent of Auraline, the First Heir.” 

Ash inhaled sharply, eyes widening. He was a child of Faerie, he knew what that meant. 

“You-” Ash began, and broke off, breathing hard. “I _knew_ it, I knew you were like me.” 

Kit regarded him. _I knew you were like me_. Herondale-Morgenstern blood, dizzying family ties and the fell swoop of Faerie, blonde curls and wide light eyes and delicate, arched, features; _we are the same, you and I_. 

“You healed me.” Kit said after a moment. It was true, he knew it now, Ash had given him the energy to live, the words that had saved him belonged to Ash. “Thank you.” 

Ash gave a short, sharp, nod. Kit expelled a breath, and, tentatively, reached for his magic, curling fingers around the simmering gunshot-crackle of it. It felt different now, less lazy and more awake, _alive_ , as if its brush with death had sharpened it into something hard and fierce and blood-smeared. 

Ash inhaled; a high, piping, sound. They locked eyes; shimmering green to searing blue. A single thought shared: _We are the same, you and I_. 

Ash’s magic was loose, tinted with a screen of forest-cool and sleek furred creatures, and Kit was fire and wind and the crack of a whip in the weeping, bated, air. 

He felt loose, dizzy, his head ringing and empty and he wanted to fill it with fire and magic, he wanted to scorch the steady white walls of his skull with brightness. 

Carefully, Kit navigated his magic around Ash’s, tip-toeing around limbs and coils and rushes, arranging the brushfire of his magic with pinpoint precision, mapping a careful architecture of _same same same, we are the same, we are, you and I we are_. 

Ash’s eyes were heavy lidded; he staggered to the nearest wall and sank down, breath sobbing in his throat, shoulders slumping with the effort of holding his magic still. 

Ty was at Kit’s side, fingers gripping his shoulder, pressing into the fever of Kit’s skin, and Kit gasped, eyes flying open. Across the room, Ash let out a soft sound, eyes fluttering under the thin, translucently-veined, skin of his eyelids. 

It felt _so_ intimate, so unbearably intimate, and this boy was an utter stranger. An utter stranger but Kit was letting his mind fall open, a ripe fruit for the taking. His magic was precise and exact, careful not to take up any more space than was allotted. 

_What is going on?_ The thought rang, bounced across the clean emptiness of Kit’s skull, Kit answered _I don’t know_ and he realized that the question had been Ash’s, and then Ash was in his mind and he was in Ash’s and he’d never never never felt- _Sebastian, black eyes, fair hair, the crack of a cane and there is fire, lancing across his back._

_The demons and the fire and then there is a boy with eyes like bright water, the cool kiss of a knife at his throat._

_I will give you the world, Janus murmurs late at night, smoothing his hair. He looks up at Janus, he is sure his heart is in his eyes, beating with love me love me love me, and Janus gets to his feet, uncertainty flickering._

_A sword is plunging into the flesh of a girl with green-blue-blue eyes and hair streaked with gold, and she crumples, mouth falling open. He has kissed that mouth, he has stroked that tongue with his own, he has slid his hands into that hair._

_Red hair like fire and his mother slides into the room. She is cruel but she loves him, and isn’t that the way it always is. Sebastian, the Queen, Janus. They revolve around him, a fairground ride of always, rage and tenderness in equal measure._

_He is holding a boy and the night is cold, he is holding a boy like he needs him to survive, until his fingers bite into bone. His heart is shaking, splintering, brimful of things he can’t name, strange luminescent creatures floating in the darkness inside him._

_He is in his room and a girl stumbles in with green-blue-blue eyes and warm hair. She is composed of curves and not angles, she is a nest of soft wilderness that he would like very much to sink into._

_A circle and the black sheen of a lake, he knows this is wrong. The boy is there, with the moonlit eyes and soft dark hair, and the sound of Latin rises, sonorous. I love you, Ty. I love you._

_Janus and Sebastian and monotony, and then there is the soft slip of a sheaf of paper, and on it is sprawled the girl, the girl, all dips and lush softness. Her eyes dance at him, her hair looks soft and he thinks if he reached out to touch it, it would be. His fingers graze the rasp of charcoal; a drawing, nothing more. But scrawled in the corner is his name: Drusilla Blackthorn._

_The boy doesn’t want him, no one ever has. His mother is dead and his father never loved him and Ty doesn’t, who would? The sting of the tattoo is nothing. He thinks about murmured words and shared laughter and gentle touches and he breaks._

With a gasp, Kit surfaced. There were tears cutting through his face, he was a mess of blood-sweat-tears. He was shaking; he was nothing. 

Across the room, Ash was shuddering, wrapping tightly around himself and staggering to his feet. 

They had just trawled through the weightiest memories in each other’s minds, Kit realized. He knew now, he knew Ash, _knew_ this stranger with every fibre of his body. 

Ash staggered across the room, eyes blown wide and wet, sinking to Kit’s side, because Kit was still sprawled on the floor. 

“The girl you saw- Dru. You’re- are you - I know her, she’s a friend, she’s Ty’s sister,” Kit rasped out, and Ash went stiff, eyes widening. 

“Ty,” Ash said slowly, testing the name out, his eyes flickering to Ty, and Ty looked uncertain, asking “What?” 

Ash shook his head, falling silent, his eyes moving between the two of them. He felt it, he saw the way Kit loved Ty; they’d totally and completely inhabited each other. 

Ash had seen all of Kit’s fears, his insecurities, in a few minutes. It was a peculiar, contrived, brand of closeness. It felt different, alien. Strange. 

The boy looking at him with Clary’s eyes and Sebastian’s hair and the Queen’s bones, had, in the space of a few minutes, become as close as a brother to him. 

“Fuck.” Kit swore, and passed out again. 

* * *

Ty sank to his knees, thinking. The other boy, Ash, was looking conflicted, his eyes uncertain, but Ty knew they had to let Kit rest. He thought of Kit, Kit almost dying for him, the memory of it.

(The dagger, hurtling towards him, and Ty tensed- there was no time, he couldn’t _move_ , and then he was pushed roughly out of the way. 

A flash of bright hair, and then Kit made a sound like surrender, falling to his knees, his mouth a soft _o_ , and Ty _couldn’t_ , he’d had too many people snatched away from him with the fell swoop of a blade. 

Livvy, flesh sheared away, eyes wide and blank. And now Kit. 

Ty was moving; he knew what he had to do, he had to keep his mind _clear_ , the sounds and the light and colors were blinding, but he had to _concentrate_. 

Runes, runes. Kit had fallen to the ground and Ty knelt over him, carving runes over and over onto his skin, on the flare of his collarbone, the divot of his throat, the flat expanse of his stomach. It wasn’t _working_ , they were fading and Ty felt a wave of hysteria, but he had to keep calm. Calm. 

And then Kit gasped, eyes locking onto something behind Ty’s shoulder, fingers digging into Ty’s arm. Ty couldn’t glance behind him, but he knew that Kit was either looking at Thule-Jace or the strange boy, although strange wasn’t always a nice way to describe someone, according to Julian. 

Ty scrawled yet another _iratze_ and, miraculously, it held, strong and black against the gold of Kit’s skin. The knife had landed between two ribs, and Ty breathed deep, murmuring a litany of Latin under his breath, healing chants he’d learned at the Scholomance. 

_Nomine Augustini, sana quod est homo_. Ty exhaled and pulled the knife out in a clean motion, quickly carving eight Marks to heal the skin, replenish the blood Kit had lost. 

Kit gasped Ty’s name out, but there was nothing more important than saving Kit’s life, so Ty shushed him, and then Kit’s eyes fluttered shut, his breathing evening out.) 

And then he’d woken up and locked eyes with this boy, this stranger, and they hd both fallen into a sort of trance, Kit’s eyes closing, his breath rasping and terrified, tears squeezing from his eyelids. 

Ty had wanted to help him, wanted to go to him and hold him like Kit had once done, but he knew that whatever was going on was dangerous, volatile. Waking Kit up might do more harm than good. 

So he’d waited, the smell of magic filling his nostrils, watching as both boys flinched, winced, shook, in unison. 

Then they had woken up and Kit had said Dru’s name- in reference to _Ash_ , which Ty found highly suspicious. How would Dru even know this boy, anyway? 

But he could ask those questions later, what mattered now was getting Kit- and maybe, maybe, Ash - out, alive. 

And now, Kit sprawled out on the floor and Ash looking dizzy and shell-shocked, Ty knew he had to do _something_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry I haven't updated in some time. i am an inherently lazy person, which means that i have spent this week reading rather than writing fanfiction (on the bright side, it means i have a lot of bookmarks! But not any new kitty bookmarks, sadly, I've mainly been reading harry potter wolfstar fics this week, which are AMAZING, check that ship out).
> 
> anyway, the point is, i screwed up, and i'm sorry! *throws chapter at you guys* take this! please don't hurt me!


	12. Secret Ceremonials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kit, Ash, and Ty get down and dirty- KIDDING KIDDING we all know Ty would get too possessive for a threesome haha. Ty and ash finally get some one-on-one interaction, Kit and Ash kind of explore their weird new magical mental link, and we get a tiny slice of Janus-Ash interaction towards the end.

“What do you want?” Ty asked. It was a vague question, he knew, one that could have a million possible answers- breakfast, immortality, a good night’s rest.

Ash coughed, breathing coming in shallow hiccups. His eyes were Clary’s- green and wide and wet and- and wary. 

Good. 

Because half an hour ago, Kit had been bleeding out on the lovely hardwood floors, and Ty tried not to let his emotions rule him but he wanted to make Janus _hurt_ for what he had done, the casual negligence with which he had tossed the blade, as if the slim difference between life and death was as insignificant, as inconsequential, as a breath. 

(Except a breath _was_ significant, when it could be someone’s last. It _mattered_ , and Kit mattered, too, and Ty was getting distracted and knotted up in metaphor as he so often was, and he needed to _focus_.) 

“What do you mean?” Ash answered after a short pause. Ty was careful not to fidget, careful to trap his trembling pinky finger in his pocket, careful to answer placidly, as if his life- and Kit’s, much more important - was not hinging on this moment, this collection of moments, of strategy and wit and how far they could get you. 

“You were willing to betray Ja-” Ty stopped, breathed quickly, and forged on. “Janus. You were willing to betray Janus, in order to ask Kit for information- information which I believe Janus would find very valuable.” 

Understanding in most people’s eyes was clear, bright, a flash of something higher. Ty knew this from years of cataloguing, dividing minute changes of expression into manageable boxes, so he could just _understand_. 

On Ash, understanding was murky, a swampy shape bubbling from the swift green of his eyes. 

“And you want to know what else you could tell me, in order to leave with your lives intact.” Ash said, slowly. 

Ty nodded, just as slowly. “Mostly. I want to know what I can tell you in order for you to tell us something in return.” 

Ash shrugs. “Depends on what you want to know.” 

Ty shook his head- he may have had difficulty dissecting what some people felt, but he was adept at following logic, at tracing twisty, convoluted, wordplay. 

“With all due respect, I believe it depends on what _you_ want to know.” 

Ash tilted his head- a feline gesture. He didn’t look like Clary then, not when his eyes were distant and slitted, not when the angle of his head spoke of _we can play this game as long as you want_. 

Ash said nothing, and Ty pounced, following a stray thread of intuition. “Dru.” 

Ash’s head snapped up at that. “You’re her brother,” Ash started, biting his lip. Ty nodded- it was true. 

Ash slid his legs in front of him, crossing them elegantly at the ankles, and Ty mirrored him. They were facing each other- secret ceremonials, the proverbial smoking of the peace pipe. 

“She loves horror movies.” Ty stated after a pause, watching Ash carefully. Mentally, he apologized to Dru, for offering scraps of her self up to this strange beautiful boy, as if she were a piece of meat, but it was the only option left for them. 

Ash’s eyes widened; he looked desperate, a starving man with pupils blown wide and bright curls. 

But he was a Morgenstern, and they were victors all, even warm Clary, who had cut her way into a demon realm and stabbed a blade filled with fire into her brother, so the next piece of information he offered was nothing; a taunt. 

“Kit has a tattoo.” 

Ty narrowed his eyes. It _was_ interesting, he found himself desperate to know what it was, but it wouldn’t help him. Ash must have seen it somehow, and assumed Ty hadn’t seen it, an odd assumption. 

“Try again.” 

Ash smirked, shrugging, trying on a careless mask of insolence for size. 

“You give me useless information and I’ll give you useless information in turn; _quid pro quo_ , no?” 

Ty shook his head. “No, that’s- that’s different. I _know_ Kit- I could ask him if he had a tattoo at any time, and he would probably show me-” 

“I doubt that,” Ash muttered. Ty broke off, frowning. “You- what?” 

Ash’s eyes flicked up to him. “Nothing.” 

Ty inhaled deeply, letting calm envelope him. “She loves old horror films with special effects, with awful fake blood and terrible effects. I asked her why, a few years ago, and do you know what she said?” 

Ash’s eyes were wide and green, a guarded garden. “What?” 

“She said that it was because they were so fake, because she knew the actors would wipe off the blood and go on their way, that none of it was real, because Dru has been through _so much_.” 

Ash was silent, his fingers trembling, and after a while, he breathed out loosely, breath shuddering in a loose jangle. 

“Janus favors his left side.” 

_That_ was useful, so Ty inclined his head. “Dru’s favorite weapon is throwing knives, she likes the way they feel in her hand, she likes the rush. She can hit a bulls-eye from fifty paces away.” 

Ash smiled; a twist of his lips. “Once a month, Janus meets with the Queen.” 

_That._ Ty sucked in a breath, that was extremely useful, that was _proof_ , if only Ash would testify under the Mortal Sword, if only. 

This was proving extremely valuable. 

“She can pick a lock in five seconds, Kit taught her to. She’s been practicing for years, and she beat him thirteen times out of twenty four.” 

Ash sighed, tapping his fingers on the wooden floorboards. “Janus is working on something in the lab, something to get to Thule. It’s fairly explosive.” 

That, too, was very interesting, and Ty felt a tad guilty for not being as reciprocal. 

“Dru loves crépes- especially with banana and Nutella. She loves the Pier. She loves the color black. She loves her knives.” 

Ash’s pupils were blown wide, eclipsing the green. There was a flush rising under the thin skin of his cheekbones; he looked drugged. 

Ty felt a small twinge of pity for him, this boy starved for softness, practically salivating over gristly scraps of love. 

Then he remembered that the girl in question was his own _sister_ \- and _how_ exactly had Ash found out her name? Had they met? What exactly was going on here? - and stopped feeling sorry. 

“I-” Ash began, and broke off, glancing at Kit. “He’s waking up.” 

Ty spun, breaking the strange secret web of secrets they had woven around themselves, gathered close and tufted with only the downiest half-truths. 

Kit let out a soft noise that made Ty feel as if his heart was attempting to break his sternum, and his eyes fluttered open, because of course Kit Herondale would wake up that way, all long lashes and dreamy winks and half-placed sighs, his collarbone arcing elegantly beneath his skin. 

Ty felt a strange urge to bend down and ghost his lips across Kit’s collarbone, to leave a bruise there, _mine_. 

He didn’t act on it- things had been strange enough without the added awkwardness of some unexplainable mauling. 

Kit sat up, stretching. “How long have I been out?” 

Ash cast a swift green-eyed glance at Ty, and then answered for him. “About ten minutes.” 

“Twelve minutes and forty-three seconds,” Ty corrected quietly. He knew that a difference as slight as two minutes and forty three seconds didn’t matter that much, but he prized accuracy, and leaving false information uncorrected for too long _festered_ , like an open wound. 

Kit’s eyes flicked to Ash, and then away again, like he was hiding something, and Ty narrowed his eyes. There was something Kit wasn’t saying. 

* * *

There was soft nether darkness, and then the words _he’s waking up_ yanked him out, and slowly, he opened his eyes. 

Kit sat up. “How long have I been out?” Ash glanced at Ty- okay, what? - and gave the terse answer of “Ten minutes,”. 

“Twelve minutes and forty minutes.” Ty corrected Ash, worried gray eyes resting on Kit, and Kit felt a surge of fondness for him. 

Wait. Kit frowned, the memories of the past few hours rushing over him. Ash. They’d had a peculiar magical-bonding thing, and now- now Ash, a _stranger_ , knew the innermost secrets of his soul, had experienced his most formative memories. Humiliation, a sense of being violated, rushed over him, and then he remembered something- he’d been in Ash’s mind too. This was not a Giving Tree sort of situation- it was reciprocal. 

Kit watched Ash, carefully. His eyes were wide, the remains of a flush dusting his cheekbones. “Did I miss anything?” Kit asked. 

Ty answered, and Kit’s shoulders relaxed at the sound of his voice. Ty, he could trust. “We’ve been exchanging information.” 

Exchanging information. “What did you learn?” But now, that wasn’t as important as- “What did you tell him?” 

Ty’s eyes flicked at him, gray and large and full of _we’ll talk later_ , and Kit nodded, carefully. 

“He told me about Dru.” Ash said quietly, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt. When Kit turned to look at him, raising his eyebrows incredulously, Ash flushed. 

Kit was a Herondale, yes, but he was also- that is, he _had_ been - a Rook. A criminal. His father had traded in secrets, after all, and figuring out what made people was his specialty- had been, at least. 

Ash was _starving_ for love- _He looks up at Janus, he is sure his heart is in his eyes, beating with love me love me love me_ \- and he was like Kit in that way, if not others. He, again, like Kit, was in love with a Blackthorn. (Although Kit wasn’t quite sure if it was love- maybe just a infatuation). 

He was impressed that Ty managed to figure out what would make Ash do anything- but of course he did, who was he kidding? It was _Ty_ , goddammit. Ty, always. 

“That reminds me, how _exactly_ do you know my sister?” Ty asked, sharply. 

* * *

_He’s sprawled on his bed, on the lush slippery silks and pelts and furs, and then the girl runs in, breaths sobbing fast, all flushed cheeks and glittering knives, and she looks so alive that he can’t breathe._

* * *

_  
_

_Janus and Sebastian and monotony, and then there is the soft slip of a sheaf of paper, and on it is sprawled the girl, the girl, all dips and lush softness. Her eyes dance at him, her hair looks soft and he thinks if he reached out to touch it, it would be. His fingers graze the rasp of charcoal; a drawing, nothing more. But scrawled in the corner is his name: Drusilla Blackthorn._

* * *

“Fuck.” Ash muttered, and said nothing. Kit, figuring it would be better to have this out in the open, in case Ty decided to gut Ash in a murderous rage for being mildly obsessed with Dru- it didn’t seem like something Ty would do, but you never knew - spoke for him. 

“Dru stumbled into the Court at one point, no clue how, and somehow, Ash got a drawing of her- it looks like something Julian would draw, maybe he left it at Thule.” 

Slowly, Ty nodded. 

Ash was flushing, his hands opening and closing on air, like a bizarre many-lipped flower, and Kit felt nothing, absolutely nothing, for a moment, felt nothing for this strange green eyed boy he felt inexplicably, terribly, _bound_ to- just a moment, and then it all came rushing back, the peculiar grooves of Ash’s emotions, the crack of Sebastian’s belt across his ribs, and then it was impossible to feel nothing, Kit knew he would never feel nothing again, that he would always feel _something_ towards Ash, be it pity or revulsion or fondness. 

“Tiberius Blackthorn.” Ash said, slowly, sounding out the name, and Ty’s eyes narrowed. “What?” 

“Kit-” Ash started to say, but then Kit was hurling himself at Ash, his magic bolstering him, flinging himself onto Ash and straddling his hips and glaring fiercely. Ash’s back hit the floor, and Kit leaned over him, caging him. _Kit’s in love with you._

“ _Don’t._ ” Kit hissed, harshly, and Ash nodded as best he could- because Kit’s hands were on his _throat_. Kit let go immediately. 

Ash’s eyes were flickering at him, green and wide and shimmering, and Ash said softly, so low that Kit doubted Ty could hear, “I wasn’t going to say anything. I wouldn’t.” 

Kit leaned down further. “So we’re doing that?” 

Ash’s eyes narrowed, confusion swimming in their depths. 

“We both saw things that are- that we don’t want others to know. We both saw things that should remain _private_. I don’t think pretending it didn’t happen is going to work, because that would just be awkward, but I can promise not to tell anyone else, if you do the same for me.” Kit clarified, gaze still trained on Ash’s eyes, watching every shadow that passed through the green. 

Ash said nothing for a while, and then slowly, he nodded. “I- thank you.” 

Kit smiled, baring his teeth. “So we’re in agreement.” 

Ash nodded again, and carefully, Kit scrawled a Promise rune on his collarbone. Ash froze, feeling the sting of magic- Shadowhunters, touchy people that they were, hated it when people called it magic, but what else _could_ they call it? Their tattoos shaped _reality_ \- sealing the promise. 

Kit flipped the stele, settling it in Ash’s hands, baring his throat. 

(It’s what he _does_ , isn’t it. Baring his throat to the enemy, hell, he’s still in love with the last boy who held a knife to his throat.) 

Breathing harshly, Ash carved an identical Promise rune on Kit’s sternum, and Kit gritted his teeth as the sparks flew into his blood, trailing and quickening on the magic. 

Kit snatched his stele back, sliding into his pocket and getting off Ash as smoothly as he could. Ash sat up, unhesitantly, because he might have been abused and emotionally scarred but he was _Sebastian’s_ son. 

Ty was watching the both of them, winged brows furrowed, trying to puzzle out what had happened. Kit could practically see the cogs and gears whirring in his mind, placing facts together, aligning them like puzzle pieces, clicking them into place and when he looked at them he would see- _Kit’s in love with you_ \- what? 

“Well, now that we’re all present and conscious and not currently occupied,” Ty’s voice was tinged with humor, just the slightest touch of it, a caress, “Why don’t we talk about what we’re going to do?” 

Kit cleared his throat. “What we’re going to- what do you mean?” 

Ty leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His limbs were long and pillared and elegant. “Well, seeing as Ash has sworn on the Angel to not mention a word of what’s happening in this room to Janus, I assumed we would all work together to escape, no?” 

* * *

No. He could not _leave_ , leave Janus, Janus who had promised to give the world to him, Janus who was the closest thing to love he had-

Could not? Or would not? Janus was all he had left of his _world_ , though. ( _Thule- ash and smoke and rebellion and Sebastian, lounging prettily on a throne of cut glass and crystal. Come here, my son, Sebastian says, and Ash bleeds, bleeds onto the pretty pretty throne._ ) “I-” Ash started, struggling for air, a breath clawing at his throat. “I- he - we can’t-” Ash broke off; the words wouldn’t come right and Drusilla Blackthorn’s blue-blue-green eyes were clouding his vision, the sweep of her lashes dizzying and black. 

“Ash.” It was Kit, his flame-blue eyes concerned. He’d hurt Ash earlier, straddling his slim hips and carving into Ash’s skin promises of secrecy, but Ash didn’t mind. People with golden hair hurt him, they always did, and Kit wasn’t even trying to. 

Ash took a shuddering breath. Kit couldn’t _understand_ , he’d seen in Kit’s eyes and saw a boy so desperate for love, just like himself except _different_ , because Kit had never whipped a werewolf girl with silver at his father’s command, Kit had never had _been_ whipped at his father’s command, and as convoluted and complicated as Kit’s complexes were, they had nothing on Ash, who’d been taught methods of torture before he could read, who was _still_ too damn soft for Sebastian, _still_. 

“I think- is he okay?” _Concentrate. Concentrate on his voice._

Another voice, clinical and gentle. “He’s having a panic attack, I believe. I- I know how to help, I just- Kit, could you-” There was a sharp pop, a burst of sparks, and Ash flinched. It was bright, too bright. 

Then the boy Kit was in love with was kneeling in front of him, grabbing his hands tightly. “Breathe.” 

Ash tried to tear his hands away, tried to struggle away, but the boy was stronger than he looked, slim scarred hands tightening almost painfully, but Ash sank into the sensation gratefully. Pain grounded him. 

“ _Breathe._ In. Out.” 

_Listen to him_ , Kit told him, whispering in his mind, and Ash obeyed, sucking in a sobbing breath. 

Kit sat himself behind Ash, gripping his shoulders, and Ash relaxed further, breathing coming easier. “That’s it,” Ty said slowly, eyes never leaving Ash’s face, “Keep breathing like that- in. Out. In. Out.” 

His surroundings were blooming to life again, bleeding in the edges of Ash’s vision- the door, locked, the floorboards slightly spattered with Kit’s blood, the skylight and a broken pair of handcuffs strewn on the floor. 

_Shit._ He was supposed to be interrogating them, and then he and Kit had- well, they’d done _something_ , something that apparently made it possible to speak to each other, mind to mind - and now they’d helped him with a panic attack and _shit_ Janus would not like this- 

_So you won’t let him know._ Kit snarked in his mind, sounding exasperated. Ash flinched. _You can hear my thoughts?_

_Hey, it’s not like this is fun for me, either. I don’t want to feel like Edward Cullen, believe me, but you were just thinking- loudly. You could probably do it too- not that you should!_ Kit added hastily, sounding like he was mentally smacking himself, and Ash snorted, carefully teasing apart the threads of their mental connection, bridging the gap and sliding into the nest of Kit’s mind. 

Flashes- _the story of I love you, it has no end_ \- Tessa Gray’s wide eyes, a soft hand smoothing over his scalp. _No offense, but could you get the fuck out of my head?_

Ash jerked back, scrabbling out Kit’s mind so fast he could barely breathe, spilling out of Kit’s grip, landing hard the wooden floorboards, hard. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Ash babbled, he knew about boundaries. _People hate it when you break into them, Ash_ , Sebastian had told him once, a terrifying grin curling his lips. _You break into the places they have never shown another soul and they will hate it._

He didn’t know what he wanted to be, he didn’t know what he would do with this fucking _mess_ of Kit and Janus and Ty but he knew one thing: he would die before he would be like Sebastian. 

_It’s fine. Just- don’t do it again, unless I give you permission, okay?_ Kit slid into- well, not _into_ , more like around, his mind, his voice unexpectedly soothing. _Okay._

“Can you talk, mind-to-mind?” Ty asked abruptly, gray eyes flicking between them. Ash took in the scene- him awkwardly seated on the floor, braced on his hands, Kit perched to his right, Ty in front of both of them. 

_Are we going to tell him?_ Ash asked, and Kit stiffened, shooting back a sharp _of course_ before explaining the situation to Ty. 

“I should go.” Ash said after a while. He didn’t know what else he could do- he needed to _think_ , away from the boy who could _hear his thoughts_ , away from the other boy with sharp gray eyes who he’d told too much. 

Ty nodded sharply, getting to his feet, and Ash looked down, reflexively, at the broken handcuffs. “You need to- I can’t leave the room with you uncuffed, he’ll suspect.” 

Ty nodded again, eyes flickering to Kit’s, and took the cuffs, wrapping them loosely around his wrists, clicking them shut. They would be loose enough around his slim wrists to wriggle out, Ash saw, but there wasn’t much he could do- he could fight him, he supposed, but Janus would hear and then he’d have to explain what Ty was doing out of the cuffs in the first place. Kit wasn’t cuffed in the first place, possibly because Janus couldn’t see the point in it. 

_Kit._ Ash said softly, letting it ring in his mind, and Kit turned, blue eyes unexpectedly soft. _What?_

Ash shifted. _There’s- there’s cold iron at the windows, inlaid in the walls, at the door… we- he - I wouldn’t advise trying to break out._

Kit tilted his head. _You actually care?_

Ash flinched, and then he was scrabbling for the doorknob, hissing as the cold iron burned, _burned_ , sending frissons of thick, repulsive, _wrong_ -ness down his spine but he needed- he didn’t know, he needed to get away and his magic wouldn’t work on cold iron, wouldn’t touch it, and fuck he needed Janus to get in here and open it for him- 

“Hey,” Kit started forward, looking guilty, “You alright?” 

“You actually care?” Ash gasped out, and Kit grimaced, a _sorry_ floating through the channel between minds, soothing but not soothing enough because the cold iron is still ringing emptily in his veins, reverberating ripples of wrongness and he couldn’t _breathe_ \- 

Ty came up, ghost-swift behind Kit and twisted the doorknob- he’d slipped his wrists out of the cuffs - swinging the door open. “Thanks,” Ash gritted out, and slipped out the door, kicking it shut gently. 

* * *

“So.” Kit coughed after Ash had stumbled out of the door. “We need to talk.”

Ty nodded once and slipped his wrists back into the handcuffs, ignoring Kit’s eyebrow wiggles and murmurings of _kinky_. 

“I figured out several key things from Ash. One, Janus is experimenting with a highly explosive method in order to figure out how to get back to Thule, two, Janus is in league with the Queen, three, Janus favors his left side, although I wouldn’t rely on that too much, we have to remember that Ash is still in Janus’s side, even if he is sympathetic to us.” 

Kit bit his bottom lip, thinking. “Okay, so we use the highly explosive thing to blow up the house and I keep us safe with an energy shield, we return to camp and get Ash to testify at the Mortal Sword.” 

Ty shook his head, sinking to the floor and crossing his legs. “You’re forgetting that Ash won’t voluntarily leave Janus- and the cold iron.” 

Kit grinned. “Oh, didn’t I mention it? We’re bringing Ash with us.” 

* * *

“Anything interesting?” Janus was tinkering with the modified Portal he was trying to use to access Thule, but he put down the tools for a moment, dim golden eyes lingering on Ash. Ash swallowed. _Love me love me love me_ -

“The Blackthorn’s telling the truth about his identity- not sure if the one who was adopted by James Carstairs and Tessa Gray is, but he’s a Shadowhunter, at least. The story about Lily Chen is a cover- there’s some truth there, but I doubt that it’s all true. I got one to admit that Lily Chen didn’t send them.” Lies and truth, bound together. He was walking a thin line between aiding them and betraying Janus; he would need to be careful. 

Janus nodded slowly, his eyes lazy and golden. “I thought as much. We’ll make an interrogator of you yet, Ash.” 

It was as close, Ash knew, to saying _good job_ , or, God forbid, _I’m proud of you_ , as Janus would get, possibly ever. 

Ash swallowed and forced a smile. 

* * *

Somewhere in the north of Faerie, a ghost swept through the forests.

_Ty, Ty, Ty!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I haven't posted in a while and um, I have basically no excuse besides work eating me alive, spitting me out, chewing me up again, digesting me, and expelling me out of the other end. (And wasting a lot of time reading fanfiction... oops)
> 
> So basically, since I get that it's kind of confusing, Kit and Ash have a very strong mental bond now, almost unbreakable. Guess who shouldn't do weird magic without thinking first, huh? ( _Gryffindors_ , honestly- Kit is _such_ a Gryffindor, let's not quibble about this.) It's akin to a parabatai bond, but Kit and Ash also have mental communication, which is b/c of their faerie magic. 
> 
> Also, I've been thinking about how I feel with Dru/Ash.... so on the one hand I get that it's kind of... I dunno, _creepy_ to the extreme to have a (super hot) faerie obsessing over you after two (well, one, really) meetings with you, but at the same time, Dru had a crush on Perfect Diego at one point so...? I also, personally, would kind of love it if I had a super hot Morgenstern-faerie being like _heyyy so I'm kind of infatuated with you_. And Ash is such a emotionally twisted sweetie, and paired with Dru's no-nonsense badass-ery, I can see them two working together well. Dru would definitely be good for Ash. Thoughts?


End file.
